pjthompson | Entries tagged with fear

It’s been a terrifying week, actually. Tuesday night, after a day of running errands and feeling fine, my mom got a terrible stomach ache after dinner.

“I’m just going to sit down for a minute,” she said, sitting in the rocker in the living room.

“You just sit there and I’ll do the dishes.”

“Okay. It really does hurt, but it usually goes away in fifteen or twenty minutes.”

She’s been having these stomach aches after dinner for a couple of weeks, you see, but they always go away after a short while. This one was persistent.

So I did the dishes and I realized she’d been quiet for a long time. I came in to check on her and she’d passed out. I don’t just mean a little faint—she was gone. Completely unresponsive, head slumped forward, pale, clammy, cold. In fact, I thought she was dead for a few terrifying moments until I picked up a pulse. I jumped for the phone to call 911, but her head lolled back and she made this scary aspiration sound, so I tipped it forward again, and she got sick, and then she started to revive a little, but by that time I had the paramedics on the way and the 911 operator on the line. They got there really fast and she was wuzzy but talking a little by then. By the time one of the nice firemen and I had gathered up her medicines and they’d loaded her on the stretcher, she was actually sort of chatty. The paramedic said they’d stabilize her in the ambulance, but it looked like she’d be okay, then they transported her and I followed in my car.

Something must have been in the air that night because the local hospital E-room was full up, as were many of the others except Brotman, which is a horrible place, and when the paramedic mentioned it, Mom declared, “I’m not going to Brotman! Don’t take me there!” Which actually unknotted some of the sheer terror in my stomach a little if she was being that adamant. They managed to get her into Santa Monica-UCLA, but even that was almost full. On the drive there, I passed three other ambulances in full cry.

She was very thoroughly checked out at Santa Monica. They couldn’t find anything sinister going on until they did a CAT scan of stomach and then they found an undiagnosed stomach issue—the doctor described it as a kind a hardening of the arteries in the intestines so that she wasn’t getting enough blood in her stomach when trying to digest food. That’s what had been giving her stomach aches. Blood thinners and smaller meals will help with that issue. I’d had a bout of 24-hour stomach virus the previous week, and that may have been contributing to things. She had the same symptoms as me in the following day and a half.

Why did she pass out in such a scary fashion? The pain this time had been more intense than previous times and the doctor’s theory is that she passed out from the pain. Her heart is sound, her BP had come back up, she’d stabilized, so at 2 a.m. we took a taxi home from the hospital.

Don’t get me started on the parking problems around Santa Monica hospital. There is no emergency room parking longer than 20 minutes. I had to walk a block and a half in the dark from a $10 parking structure to get to the emergency room and I wasn’t about to repeat that at 2 a.m. It all seemed quite minor compared to what we’d gone through earlier, and I was so grateful to be taking her home again I didn’t worry about it. I was still grateful the next day, but rather “perturbed” when a neighbor gave me a ride to pick up my car. I’d pulled into a legal visitor’s parking space okay, but it was one of those double ones and I didn’t pull all the way to the wall. They had booted my car and were going to tow it. I don’t usually do the hysterical female thing because it’s just not my way, but I pulled that trick out of the bag that day and launched it on them. Besides, I was in a legal space. They unbooted my car and let me drive away.

Mom was quite sick for a few days and her primary care doctor said to keep her hydrated, but don’t force the eating issue too much. She managed to start eating (albeit lightly) by yesterday so I thought I might actually go to work today, but then the stress caught up with me and slammed me. I haven’t felt at all well today and stayed home. She’s alert, eating (still lightly), and we’re going to her doctor next week.

But I can’t quite leave that terror behind. Somewhere in me there’s a post on death and dying wanting to be written and the cycle of life, but not now. I don’t know when I’ll be ready to face that one. Who ever is ready for that one?

Mirrored from Better Than Dead.

Random quote of the day:

“The oldest and strongest emotion of mankind is fear, and the oldest and strongest kind of fear is fear of the unknown."

—H. P. Lovecraft, “Supernatural Horror in Literature,” 1927

( Illustrated version. )

Disclaimer: The views expressed in this random quote of the day do not necessarily reflect the views of the poster, her immediate family, Siegfried and Roy, Leonard Maltin, or the Mormon Tabernacle Choir. They do, however, sometimes reflect the views of the Cottingley Fairies.

So this morning, sometime between 10:30 and 11, I'm sitting in the living room looking towards the kitchen, which has a big plate glass window. I notice that what I can see of the window through the frame of the kitchen door is filled with bees flying every which way. I jump to my feet and run to the window and sure enough, the front yard is filled with them, swarming everywhere, hundreds and hundreds. They seem to be concentrating on the bougainvillea bush. Slowly, they all sort of "dissolve" into the bougainvillea—in other words, they're filtering in there a bit at a time, taking up residence, presumably because the queen has decided to rest there. Still several dozen flying around the outside of the bougainvillea and in the yard, but that great mass of bees is in there. What's worse is that the bush abuts the roommate's car parked in the driveway and there isn't any way to back that car out without brushing the bush, and in order not to walk into a mass of bees, she's going to have to get in the passenger's side and scoot over.

First, I called L.A. County Vector Control. They're supposed to clear the bees for free.* They took the report, but couldn't get out here before tomorrow. We're both too freaked to wait, so we start calling bee control contractors.** Most have their answering machines on, but I do finally find a live human who answers the phone and agreed to come out between two and four.

Then about 2:30 I hear this strange noise out front: a kind of scraping noise, or like somebody's spraying something, and I think maybe the pest guy showed up and went right to work so again I run to the window. Hundreds and hundreds of bees are streaming back out of the bougainvillea, heading towards the center of the street. They buzz around over the median strip for several moments, move into my neighbor's front yard across the street, then as if on command (following the queen, I imagine) they shoot between two houses, heading west. There are still dozens of bees buzzing around the bush, though, so I decide to have the bee guy come out anyway. We finally get bold enough to go out there and I'm glad he's coming because there's a big, pendulous hive of them attached to the side of the bush—in exactly the place we always brush with the car when backing out. That would have been a fun encounter. Apparently, the swarm had split again and this was what was left. They move about a hundred yards at a time, according to the bee guy, so who knows where they came from?

The bee man got here at four. He said it's the season for them to start splitting up as new queens emerge. He's a busy man these days and took off for another appointment after he finished here. "Don't come out here for at least a couple of hours," he warned. "Bees are going to be coming back looking for the hive and they're going to be angry." There's dozens of them still buzzing around the place where the hive used to be.

*According to bee man, they only work for free if it's on public land. Since the bees were on private property, I'd probably have had to pay, anyway. Fortunately, the contractor wasn't exorbitantly expensive. If it works.

**One creepy side note: one of the people I called and hung up on when I got the answering machine called me back about an hour later. I hadn't left a message, so that means they've got some kind of software that harvested my number before I hung up.

Writing blocks, for me, can take a couple of different forms. Sometimes I become blocked for a week or two because my Muse is trying to tell me that I've taken a wrong turn somewhere with a current project. He's making me stop until I figure it out, back up, and get off the wrong path. Once I get clear on that, things generally start moving again.

Another kind of writing block is more insidious and harder to cure because it involves the recognition that I've taken a wrong turn inside myself. I stop writing when I get out of balance, but it's sometimes hard to realize that's happening. Fortunately, these reassessments of my life's path occur only every ten years or so, and the good news is that I've gotten much cannier about recognizing them. In my misspent youth, I'd sometimes spin my wheels for months, even years on one horrible occasion, mostly in a state of denial. Denial is the road to nowhere, pretty much.

So, how to fix myself rather than the project I am working on? Not always easy, but admitting there is a problem is a crucial step. Usually, in the midst of that whole reassessment thing, it's required to sit down somewhere quiet, to let the doubts and fears and questions and wants and hopes and aspirations and whatever crowd around. Once they do, it requires more quiet time to listen to their various complaints, let them sink down into the deep levels, and see which of them are valid and which of them are just more wheel spinning. It requires asking them, asking myself, what I really want. What's important to me, and not necessarily the great wide world.

This is not a society which values quiet time and passive receptivity. We are doers. We believe in going out and hunting down our solutions rather than letting them pad in on soft paws and lie beside us. We don't like mixing our metaphors, either. If we're on the damned road, we want to stay on the damned road. If we're out in a forest clearing sitting around with wild things—well, we don't want to do that. It's too passive. And, besides, wild things are scary. What if they attack us, try to eat us? What if we're like that guy who went into the wilds of Alaska and relied too much on books on nature craft rather than being taught true nature craft and wound up eating poison mushrooms and dying alone and in agony?

But sometimes that's exactly what you have to do. Well, not eating the poison mushrooms part, but the going into the wilds and sitting around the campfire.

This is not a time of year that lends itself to quiet time. It's become this mad, rushing thing; a crazed pursuit of some perverted perfection of consumerism, getting caught up in doing things a certain way and being the ultimate hostess. But it should not be. The Winter Solstice was always a time of sitting around the fire while the cold rages outside, of taking an accounting of the year and the harvest just past, of feasting and expiating the gods so that they will bring the spring once more. It's a time of waiting for the world to be reborn.

After weeks of wheel spinning, I've finally started to make myself sit down, be quiet, and listen to the wild things as they tentatively, shyly come padding in to lie near my fire. They are as scared of me as I of them, but they do not try to eat me. (Or feed me poison mushrooms.) They have already begun talking to me, going deeper. And I've finally started to listen.

Stay tuned.

How do you tell the difference between a deep, instinctual, intuitive knowing and a deep, instinctual, obstructionist fear? That's what I want to know.

Because one thing I do know: the difference is crucial, and acting on them is even crucialer.

After two days of crud and starting to feel better, I came down with a case of insomnia last night. That's a rare event for me. I finally got up about 1 to make some hot milk. I may have gotten to sleep about 1:30, but I was wide awake again at 5. I refused to get up, threw the covers over my head and got some more dozing in between 5:30 and 6:30.

One of the nastier aspects of laying awake and tossing and turning for several hours was the creepy feeling that someone was prowling around the verges of the house last night, looking for a way to get in. I have no idea why I had that remarkable sensation but I got up at one as much to turn the lights on and scare potential intruders as I did for a sleep aid. I am not usually prone to these kinds of fantasies, either, so perhaps it came from the same place as the insomnia.

I did hear a clattering sound about 11:30 or so and got up to do a walk through the house checking on things. Everything seemed in order, but I played around with one of the screens at the front of the house to see if that made the noise. It didn't, exactly.

When I got up at 6:30, the roommate informed me the some(one)(thing) had gotten into the garage last night and up on the counter where she had a series of niche boxes she'd been working on. They'd all been knocked over—clatter clatter clatter. That's probably what I heard.

Cats or possums, most likely. We have a cat or small-possum sized whole in the garage door so the outdoor cat can sleep in there. I don't know if that's what my subconscious felt or if I was just being imaginative or . . .

"I will permit it to pass over me and through me....Where fear has gone there will be nothing. Only I will remain."

Random quote of the day:

"I must not fear. Fear is the mind-killer. Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration. I will face my fear. I will permit it to pass over me and through me. And when it is gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path. Where the fear has gone there will be nothing. Only I will remain."

—Frank Herbert, Bene Gesserit Litany Against Fear, Dune

Here's an interesting essay, "Kant and the Bene Gesserit Litany."

( Illustrated version. )

Disclaimer: The views expressed in this random quote of the day do not necessarily reflect the views of the poster, her immediate family, Siegfried and Roy, Leonard Maltin, or the Mormon Tabernacle Choir. They do, however, sometimes reflect the views of the Cottingley Fairies.

Random quote of the day:

"Mankind fears an evil man but heaven does not."

—Mencius (Meng Tzu), 372-289 BCE

( Illustrated version. )

Disclaimer: The views expressed in this random quote of the day do not necessarily reflect the views of the poster, her immediate family, Siegfried and Roy, Leonard Maltin, or the Mormon Tabernacle Choir. They do, however, sometimes reflect the views of the Cottingley Fairies.

Random quote of the day:

"There is no greater illusion than fear, no greater wrong than preparing to defend yourself, no greater misfortune than having an enemy. Whoever can see through all fear will always be safe."

—Lao Tzu, Tao Te Ching, No. 46, tr. Stephen Mitchell

Thank you,

geniusofevil.

( Illustrated version. )

Disclaimer: The views expressed in this random quote of the day do not necessarily reflect the views of the poster, her immediate family, Siegfried and Roy, Leonard Maltin, or the Mormon Tabernacle Choir. They do, however, sometimes reflect the views of the Cottingley Fairies.

Random quote of the day:

"Fear not your enemies,
for they can only
kill you;
fear not your friends,
for they can only
betray you.
Fear only
the indifferent,
who permit the killers
and the betrayers to walk
safely on the earth."

—Edward Yashinsky, "Indifference"

( Illustrated...whatever... )

Random quote of the day:

"It might be argued that fear was how the gods kept us in line. That fear was the direct opposite to free will. All things have two sides, after all. So on the one hand we had free will to allow us to do as we wished...and fear of the consequences serving to immobilize us."

—Peter David, The Woad to Wuin

( Illustrated frisson. )

Random* quote of the day:

"The mind of man, child or adult, abhors a vacuum. Darkness is blank, and must be peopled, must be filled with terrible things that symbolize its fearful power.

—Diane Purkiss, At the Bottom of the Garden

(A splendid academic book, and very readable, if any of you are doing research on the dark side of fairy.) Just sayin'.

( Illustrated reversion. )

*Thanks to the wonderful power of synchronicity, all I had to do to "randomly" come up with a suitably spooky quote was swap Thursday's quote with Wednesday's. I love it when a plan comes together.

Random quote of the day:

Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket

❶ When I pulled the random quote out of the file it turned out to be this one:

Random quote of the day:

"Anyone who thought that slaying armies was easier than fixing your own internal emotional mess hadn't had enough therapy."

—Laurell K. Hamilton, Seduced by Moonlight

I thought, "Gee willikers golly gee, the way I was raving and caving about LKH the other week, people are going to say, 'Hey Pam, wtf? Why you quoting LKH?'" And then I thought, "I guess I'll have to put a disclaimer, like, 'Yeah, I'm posting a quote by LKH! You wanna make something of it?'" And then my brain clicked in and I said to myself, "Um, Pam, nobody really cares."

❷ So then I was looking around for a picture to illustrate the quote and I typed "slaying armies" into Google Images and most of the stuff I got was boring as hell, so I tried a few more phrases until finally one of the selections was Picasso's Guernica. And I thought, "Oh yeah! That's a great painting. I'll use that." And I downloaded it and I was getting ready to do my thing. Then my brain clicked in and I said to myself, "Um, Pam, that's way too high class a painting for that quote. Think about it." And I agreed I was right. So I downloaded a picture of Xena, Warrior Princess instead.

❸Then I thought, "Not that Xena isn't a classy broad," and I thought about how important Xena was in breaking down some barriers in Teeveeland and how she made lots of girls and young women feel empowered. And I thought it might be good to ruminate on that 'cuz like it was a really silly show that had a really big impact and how that's usually how change happens. When you approach problems head on with clubs and shouting, backbones tend to stiffen and resistance increases, but if you slip something in under the radar, with silly attached, people might actually listen.

❹Then my brain clicked in and I thought, "You know, there's a dark side to that, too. I mean, it's great that girls and young women, and boys and young men, grow up feeling empowered. But fear is a good thing, too. Not the cringing in a corner kind of fear, or the 'Om gittin' ma gun, Martha!' kind of fear, or the 'I'm going to beat you up because you're different' kind of fear. Those are all unhealthy kinds of fears. Healthy fear makes you realize that you really aren't a six foot Amazon with muskels and 'tude carrying a big sword. Healthy fear makes you know you've got to protect yourself, not get too cocky and put yourself in harm's way—because the rest of the world isn't necessarily watching the same TV shows you are." Then my brain clicked in and I thought, "Um, Pam, everyone knows that already. You're stating the obvious."

❺So then I thought about playing malicious tricks on a couple of jerks from a message board I read; or better yet, post something really sarcastic to the board, like one of those posts that's really ironic and skirts the edge of serious so people aren't really sure if you're kidding or not. Then my brain clicked in and I said, "Um, no. You don't need to waste your energy, and you really don't need the bad karma. Besides, irony is dead. Most people will just figure you're being completely serious and you'll start another stupid and endless discussion about whether apples should be oranges or oranges should be apples, and why squirrels only take one bite out of fruit and then throw it down on the ground without eating the whole fruit and commenting on its goodness."

And then my brain kicked in and I realized I was too exhausted to write any kind of post at all.

So, why am I such a hardass when it comes to episodic TV? Why won't I give The Dresden Files another chance? Too much disappointment over the years. Like David Bordwell once said, "T.V. always breaks your heart, eventually."

( In which I elaborate. )

Other cranky thoughts of the day:

I heard a news report this morning that said some consumer group is going after the manufacturers of Viagra because they're "marketing it like a recreational drug."

Is it just me, or does this seem somewhat absurd? What else is Viagra for if not recreation? I mean, I hardly think getting an erection is a medical necessity. But it is a hell of a lot of fun, both for those getting to that place and those playing along. Watchdogging is a good thing most times, but this one made me laugh—and wonder if maybe the consumer people needed a year's free supply of Viagra.

Random quote of the day:

"Ignorance is the parent of fear."

—Herman Melville, Moby Dick

My friend is kind of in a holding pattern at the moment. The doctors are trying an aggressive healing regime to try to avoid surgery. He'll be in the hospital at least a week with that, then comes the big decision. If he hasn't improved enough, he'll have to go through major surgery. The prognosis is fairly good--he's been healthy as a horse until this latest crisis--but it's still major surgery and it's still worrying.

So all we can do is wait and hope the healing works. And send good thoughts and prayers his way. I'm trying not to have faith in my fear.

He's like a brother to me. Back in our bohemian days he, his wife, and I all shared a place on Venice Beach. There are no two people on this planet I'm closer to, with the exception of my mother. It's frustrating not being able to do something. But sometimes all you can do is wait.

Random quote of the day:

"Fear is faith that it won't work out."

—Sister Mary Tricky

On a far less important note, Charged with Folly has gotten a pretty decent reception on the OWW. I guess I'm on the right track there. I'm quite pleased.

I love writing novels. I always know where I am when I'm immersed in a big project, even if I don't know where the story is going. It's one of those perverse inconsistencies which are my specialty.

Sunday was pretty much a collapse in a heap, post-garage sale day, but we did have some excitement in the evening. The roommate went outside to feed the "stray" cats and found a stray dog: a mid-sized brown mutt. What was completely heartbreaking was that the dog was blind and had obviously gotten out and wandered off and didn't have a clue where she was, and she kept walking in circles, totally confused and distressed. She was well-cared for, as her coat was in great shape and she wasn't skinny. In the state she was in we didn't think she could have wandered far, but we had no idea how to find her owners.

We made her a bed in the backyard and fed her. She was too upset to settle, but not so upset she couldn't eat. And then we started putting up signs all over the place and asking anyone we encountered if they'd lost a dog or knew who owned a blind dog. We'd just about given for the night and were going to go in and hope someone saw the signs when the roommate noticed a guy trimming a tree in front of a ongoing weekend warrior rehab several houses down from us. By the grace of Artemis, he turned out to be her owner. He hadn't yet noticed that someone helping with the rehab had let the dog out (woof-woof-woof-woof-woof).

"Thank God someone found her who gave a damn," he said, greatly relieved.

Indeed, some of the people we asked up and down the street said stuff like, "Yeah, we saw that dog wandering around like it was lost and confused and we wondered about it." The roommate and I are perhaps mental when it comes to animals, but I could no more let a dog that was clearly in trouble wander like that and do nothing than I could fly. Different sensibilities for different folkesibilities, I guess.

Random quotes of the day:

"A wealthy man is one who earns one hundred dollars more a year than his wife's sister's husband."

—H. L. Mencken

"It is characteristic of people to concentrate all their fears and hatreds on a single man, preferably a foreigner. These people were in far more danger from their own generals and politicians, but that would never occur to them."

—John Maddox Roberts, The King's Gambit, SPQR I

Morbidity of the day: I've always had a thing about bridges, since I was a little kid. I have no idea where it comes from, but every time I'm stuck on one in traffic (or under one) I can't help thinking about it collapsing. I don't generally get morbid like that, but I have this one stupid thing that's become something of a Pavlovian response after all this time. I pass over and under a bridge every day to and from work and inevitably on the homeward journey I get stuck in the middle of the one over Ballona Creek. Press the button, chirp collapse? and move on with my life. The good thing about having a Pavlovian response like that is that it's difficult to take seriously. It's just a thing, not much basis in reality, familiarity breeds contempt, all that.

Last night a pelican flew over just as the traffic slowed, and the car pulling up beside me said, "Coroner" on the side. My Pavlovian response went something like this: "Pelican!" "Collapse?" "Corpsemobile!" (At least I didn't moo.)

Fortunately, it wasn't a corpse wagon with a body inside, but one of those cars like the CSI dudes drive. I wondered if he was coming from an investigation or going to one. When traffic cleared he turned down Culver towards Playa del Rey and the beach, and I proceeded up the hill on Lincoln, musing on death until some jacka** cut me off, then I mused on death in a different vein.

And then I got home and my kitty was glad to see me and hugged me back when I picked her up...and I didn't care about any of that stuff any more.

Quote of the day:

"He who angers you, controls you."

—Elizabeth Kenny

The implication here, for me, is that George W. Bush and his posse control me—and in a way I believe they do. By keeping me and people like me in a constant state of fury over what he says and does he manages to set the agenda each and every time he opens his mouth. Those of us enraged by his callousness and utter disregard of the Constitution and Bill of Rights are constantly on the ropes, arms up to protect ourselves and just hold onto the tentative ground we're standing on. We rarely get in a counter punch. And the cracker is too thick skulled to feel it, anyway.

Quote of the day:

"Fear is a question. What are you afraid of and why? Our fears are a treasure house of self knowledge if we explore them."

—Marilyn French

I'm sure most of you have seen this video by now, but on the off chance that you haven't seen Keith Olberman's response to Bush politicizing of 9/11, here it is. It's long, but it is so worth it.

ETA: If you're looking for this on YouTube, it's under Keith Oberman, not Keith Olberman.

Meh. No gain, no cut yesterday. I cut, but had to add in some stuff to make vague things clearer. Clarity is a good thing. I don't begrudge it. The good news is that as I read through this ms. the new opening comes into clearer focus. The set piece I thought I was going to be able to cut from the middle of the ms. and stick on the front probably won't work. I'll have to write something new, but that's forming up. Which will add to the word count, but hopefully not by much. Short is the operative word here: prologue-y short, although I'll call it chapter one because it's in the same time period, et al. The other good news is that these chapters are pretty tight-as-written. I know there's some more baggage coming up in later chapters, but these read pretty well to me, even after all this time.

Today I plan on working on "Eudora's Song." I thought I should probably read it through once more before flinging it at FSF. But I might sneak in more work on Shivery Bones.

ETA: You know what I hate? When you finish a rewrite and you say to yourself, "I think I nailed it that time!" And you lay it aside so you can read it again in a month and gain a little perspective, and you read it a month later and . . . the illusive It remains unnailed. "Eudora" is a stronger story, but the damned middle still sags. I've done what I can for it at this moment in time, but I don't think it's enough. I'm still taking it off the hook and releasing it, though. It needs to get into the water and start swimming. Maybe I'll know better how to fix it the next time I catch it.

Interesting sight of the day: Somebody took out a fire hydrant on Admiralty Way in Marina del Rey. Normally this is a fast shoot winding through the Marina, wending my way from Westchester to Santa Monica. But the opportunities for exiting Admiralty are limited, so we were pretty much trapped there watching the impressive water display. It was shooting up in the air a good 100 feet or so. Since there wasn't a damned thing I could do about it, I went into my zen place and thought about how lucky I was not to be trying to get out of Heathrow today, or flying anywhere for that matter. Finally, the sheriff's department started squeezing cars by in one lane and we eventually merged and moved past.

The merging thing, it's funny. Some drivers are so rabid about being first, even though everyone is moving at a snail's pace. You're not getting ahead of me, you're not getting ahead of me! I'll crash my car into you!" It's chickenshit insane, but what are you going to do? I was in my zen place, so I let the bastard go ahead of me.

Which is not to say I'm not a maniac driver sometimes. It goes with the territory here in L.A. But this morning, apparently, my hormones were in balance and it wasn't a problem. Or maybe it was the lovely fragrance of White Light I smelled for the first time last night.

Quote of the day:

"Fear will always fall to wonder in those who are capable of it."

—Jeffrey Ford, Memoranda

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Echoes in a Hollow Space

I'm here because I'm here because I'm here

Entries tagged with fear

Love and stress and terror and love

Booga booga

All a-buzz

On the road, then off the road

Things I wonder

Creep night

The mind-killer

The evil men do

Seeking balance

Indifference

Frozen

Happy Halloween!

But what if I'm wrong?

Things I thought about blogging today

Someone got up on the wrong side of the rock

Inconsistency a specialty

The lost dog lottery

Pavlovian response (a) and (b)

Of pipsqueaks and fearing fear itself

Dude, I'm just so mellow

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