No Matter Where You Go, There You Are.

Written just a few minutes ago, only edited by myself. Inspired by the Birmingham children's march.

As a person evolves over the years, they can't keep all of the exact same friends. Some friends drift away when you no longer have anything in common; maybe those commonalities were flimsy. S ome friends can't be kept due to either the other person's issues, yours, or both. Over time, I hope that you can look at your own life and see some patterns. Certain  personality traits in others are very attractive to you and  serve as magnets. That is sometimes good, sometimes bad, but in the cases I'm referring to here, it’s not only good but kind of a relief. Not long ago, I found myself  looking at just two or three personality traits belonging to some of my friends, specifically two work acquaintances and my longtime pal we’ll call Georgette.

I went to an intuitive development class on Tuesday, September 25, a class held at a spiritual center that I learned about due to being guided there by spirit.  Those two hours were a good experience, starting with the initial meditation, during which I battled nerves by vividly imagining myself in my grandparents’ backyard. When opening myself up energetically, I did my usual by mentally calling out to my higher self, my grandfather and my spirit guides, though this time I chose to picture myself in a safe place: on Grandma and Puppa’s back deck, sitting near my grandfather.

On 11/19/12, I wrote something inspired by a Thought Catalog piece . Here's my take: 1.     1.    Run away to Brooklyn for two months. Eat the best food while standing between redheaded sisters and a family of chic, noisy Muslim women. The man in front of you calls home to “Mama” in N’ Orl’ns, talking with his mouth full. Watch a diverse group of loud, confident neighborhood kids argue and tease each other and play basketball with the unspoken knowledge that all their families suffered from the hurricane, and took it in a fierce New York stride that you will never really relate to. Crash at a friend of a friend’s tiny apartment, falling asleep on the couch to the sound of a car chase. Try white peach bean paste bon bons . Take countless pictures. Go to a dance battle. Try not to feel too overwhelmed. Do shots with the bartender of the theme bar you like. Go on a few dates with a hardcore Yankees fan with gentle eyes and, as he’s taking you home on the 4, give a...

So on July 20th,  I had my reunion with Goldie. It was predictably anticlimactic. Prepare yourself.

On May 5th, I had an odd dream that included Snoop Dogg on a talk show.

In February of this year, I had the following dreams: Using topping guns in an ice cream shop and later watching Matthew Perry entertain in costume.

Friday night was not fun. That said, a story came out that was really interesting from a compassionate standpoint. The plan was to joke around with a couple of friends and have some wine. We ate dinner and put on a movie, then t he night was out of control for a while, with discussion careening into the topic of race. 

First off, I think ‘bog’ is a fun word. Second, bogs have multiple uses for us humans (some of which are very important to our survival!!!) and are not difficult to keep. Online magazine called Stuff amusingly refers to wetlands as “ the kidneys of the planet ’”. Third, they are in weak, weak numbers. Without bogs, life is a great deal harder, less healthy. G lobal warming would be even  worse,  which'll be so much fun, considering how, as Eric Holthaus put it in a recent  Grist  article, 2017 became the year when " humanity emitted the   highest level of greenhouse gas emissions in   history " .  Without bogs, t here'd be less clean air  and water for future generations, and there would be more irresponsibly rezoned areas that would flood more often and more easily. If we were to completely wipe out the few wetlands and bogs we have left, the human race would continue to frack and pipeline and cow fart our way to a lot more death and depl...

So I was in a small town that reminded me of the ones in movies about the Old West. At one point, I put my current favorite belt on a man's pet as it roamed town. I believed that would help the animal, and, of course, I now can't remember how. 

   First, a mansion, and later, a man in women's clothing.

This is my fourth Penny Reid novel, and I appreciate how she adds depth to storylines and to main characters. Her books do not settle for having either of those key story elements be dumb and two-dimensional.                                 Elizabeth, our protagonist, is fulfilling her residency as an ER doctor, working her butt off, spending one wine glass-clutching night a week with her knitting group, occasionally “using” guys in casual relationships from which she simply wanted sex for just a couple of months at a time.