1. Hi, I'll ease back into it. What I thought a while ago about indulgence applies here. I indulged in not writing, did not stress over much about it. I didn't force anything out of myself, although on the other side of the token, I didn't make myself stay on track. Some thoughts and hearts are lost into my goldfish of a memory, but some pieces and shards remain, and all throughout the indulgence, I was happy, or at least stable (stasis?). I was happily indulging.

Now I want to ease back into it, and I am excited to write! What a nice way to keep an interest going. My fragile commitments usually break and evaporate for everything I liked and did, but not like enough or like solely. With no obligation to write constantly and none other to stress out about it, it was able to welcome me back to it. No bad memories were created, and so no repulsion at all ever, I just walk right back in. I wonder if parenting should work like that.


2. "When I was young there was this grass near my house. They were onion grasses. They taste like onions. You never, I guess you don't, yeah, no, but these were just onion grasses, so I would eat them and just taste grasses."

"When I was young, first or second grade, I would get these 'yogurts' that were in these small polyethylene bottle with a ton of sugar. It's like this drink that's been around in Korea forever. They are like 10 cents each. So I would poke a little hole, and drop it on ants outside. They would go for it because it's sugar-packed, and then because it was summer and sunny, it would dry and get sticky and get all the ants stuck and kill them. It was a weird.."

"That's a weird sadistic and cruel activity." "Yeah, it was something that made you think like, 'wow, I'm doing this, but this is sort of fucked up."

"Sophomore year, spring, when the snows were all melting and grasses were coming back out, I saw bunch of ant holes one day walking down the street. I passed by the first ten or something, and then I looked everywhere going like, 'what the fuck is going on,' and I dragged my feet everywhere covering the holes up. Kicking up dust. 'No, what are you guys doing, it's a conspiracy!' " " 'No, they know, they know!' " (Note to self: A way to translate piece of reality into letters and words; parentheses could have been another interesting option.)


3. Some stories only come in time. You only share them in due time. You can dig for them with shovelfuls of interesting questions, but somethings you will find out later about a person than other things, so with time you always find more new things about other people, no matter in what order.


4. If someone unabashedly went on a passionate rant about what they found interesting, I would find themselves so interesting. If then that person humbly and self-consciously noted, 'Sorry for going on a total rant. I'm always like that when I, ugh, talk about that stuff,' I wouldn't know what to do, because, no, no I found you attractive, humility is not the right response here, only I can feel humble towards a passion, no matter how rudimentary. I just did a bad job expressing my fascination, excuse me I was caught in awe. I have nothing better to talk about, not as interesting as what you were just saying. 'If you know enough, you know enough to teach, and if you can teach, you don't get into a fight, you approach the conversation differently. It's nice.' I would love to continue to talk about what you were talking about, although I would now love to talk to you about so many other things as well.


5. I also shouldn't let the jokester nature in me to get too mischievously and mistakenly offensive. Be uppy, interesting, biting, refreshing.

Friends help us do that. Prevent the gaffes, practice the stories, prepare the personality. When you're depressed and introverted and stuttering and unwilling and lethargic and bummed out and your head seems like it aches for no reason, or when you're just thinking, 'here's to feeling good, all the time.'

6.

Mothagesso.