Privacy,

Privacy seems to be an issue in today's world. Everyone always wanting more privacy. Teenagers wanting their own room for thier enormus drums, stoners voting to keep the government out of their stashes, and bad buisness men trying for accounting confidentiality.

I've been afraid of privacy. I know that if I keep something hidden, it will grow and destroy. But, I am still clinging on to something I don't really have. My mom starts reading my livejournal, which is mostly about problems I have with my family, and then someone reads something on this blog that I had hoped would never be reveiled to them in such a cold manner.

I don't want to have anything to hide. I want it all to be out in the open. Even if it means compromising my reputation. I don't want any closet corpses, or skeletal remains. Thats a tough one in my case. There's stuff that got me in serious trouble because I never 'mentioned it'. I've never not payed the consequences for this. Even in just feeling. I need out of that. Which is why I not only cannot do what I'm ashamed of, but I can no longer be censored.

I've always had a problem when people censor other people. Not like, preventing them from doing something that would offend someone else, like at a church, but when the government puts little stickers on CDs. Or when the NAA won't grant someone because of a slighly off color idea.
It's not right to say that someone can't say something when there are poeple who will listen. Communication is like society's wheel grease. I want to keep things spinning.

The whole death thing....

Recent events got me thinking about death and such.

One thing that came to mind was how many people would care if i were to die? Hundreds? Thousands? Why would they remember us? For our drumming? For our cheery good nature? Our Hair? I want to be remembered because God remembered me. I was in his plan in a way that effected people. And if I'm remembered for that, then I wouldn't care hardly at all about the number of people that showed up.

Another thing is that anyone could go at anytime. We don't know when it's the right time to die, only God knows (and maybe our assassin), and I guess it's supposed to be a suprise to us. There will be somethings that we will not get to finish, because of death. When we die we will have fufilled God's plan for us here on earth. If thats what really matters, then maybe thats what we should hang on to it in life. Instead of fearing the loss of tomarrow, find consul in a finished work.

When My aunt Robin died, it was extremely hard to get over... She was 22 years old, and very loved. When her family's preist spoke at her funeral he said that "people should look on the good works of someone who is dead, for every good thing is an act of God." I think that he ment what he said, that when someone dies and you see all that that person has done in life, you see how great an effect God can have with just one little thing. Whenever I eat applesauce I am filled with found memories of my dear aunt(long story), and even that has proven useful. God uses people in a way that I don't intend to comprehend or pretend to understand.

Oof.

I'm back from San Juan Capistrano, on possibly one of the craziest weeks I've ever had *in a good way*.

I won't drone on about the trip, I'll just say that even with some shakey stuff going on it was a succsessful trip and it's all thanks to God. I made some new 'connections' with people that I had never really taken the time to get to know before, and I've diffenatley made some new friends (and fans! haha).

I've been worrying an awful lot. Not about the trip, or BBC, or even my family. I've been worrying about something that I've never been worried about before. Myself.

The night that... I was told, I had a dream. I terrifying dream. I drempt of killing Avery. It was scary, I had never drempt of anything like that. I just brutally killed him. And it was very realistic, even more realistic than my dreams tend to be. I really started worrying that morning, and just went the opposite way. I tried to just feel love for him, not hate. It didn't work, as soon as I got into the car that night I just cried. I screamed and shouted curses. I hate him so much. That night I had another dream, and I have had nothing but dreams about killing him every night save one. Almost all day I think about either the dream or just him. I think about how much I will enjoy his suffering when he is being punished, and how if I were ever to see him again, I would share with him all the hate that I have in a painful and horrible way.
I cry several times a day, at seemingy ran

I've been confining myself to a solitary shell, not opening up almost at all. I am suspicious of everyone that I trust- that they all hide some secret or have stabbing me family in the back, and therefore I have trouble making more friends that I can trust on any level.

Whenever something good happens my immeadiate reaction is to call Avery and tell him about it. Then I remember, then I get frustrated, and then I start to either cry or just sit and mope.

I'm losing my mind. I have never been this way before.

Digital Dream Door had a falling out. The whole chain of command colapsed. The people who were really into it and had the most to add to it have been kicked off or shunned. I have decided, because of my unique posistion, to quit. I will not pick sides with the administration, or with the radical defecties. I will simply stop working. I turned in the last thing Lew needed a long time ago, and I feel that I have made a difference, but now the site has gone to hell, my work was in vain.