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2002-05-13 9:39 a.m.

Tired, tired, tired. That is how I feel; that is what I am right now.

My mind is tired from exercizing it, my body is tired from using it, my soul is tired from sharing it. It makes me wonder, was there a time when I had more energy? I think what happens is that my capacity to do, be, live, love increases as time continues forward, and so I do, be, live, and love more and more proportional to the increase. And perhaps I am proportionally more tired than before? Or, perhaps my ability to percieve being tired has increased—a logical increase in perception, awareness? Am I thinking in circles? Fabricating ideas from fancy?

I think I have just been under so much weight. When my friends, family, loved ones are in need, I long to carry their weight for them, and also share love with them, so they might be re–energized to bear the burdens of their life once again. Loving and giving are sacraments of the soul, and staples as well. And I believe that unlike giving away money, sharing love actually creates more love—giving more generates more.

The danger of this giving is the fate of the Shel Silverstein's Giving Tree. There is a point at which one can give to a fault, and that is when they neglect their own thirst during drought times. And I think this is exactly what I am doing, and why I am so tired. I need to make sure to give only as much as I can regenerate. I want to live to love another day.

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I have a friend at work who tore his Achilles tendon a few months back. Needless to say, he has been on crutches for quite some time. He paid a visit to my office Friday—it sppeared he had a bone to pick with me. "I read your diary thing, and I notice that you have been uploading from the handicapped stall. Do you see these crutches? That stall is for me, not you. Stay out!." He blocked my office door—my only escape—and waved his metal crutch at me in a threatening gesture. Lucky for me, he appeared to me mostly kidding. Kidding or not, though, knowing that I not only get to take care of urgent digestive functions, upload to the internet, as well as punish and inflict invonvenience on cripples in one effortless and self–satisfying gesture brings me great delight.

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Skot and Ash went to prom this weekend, and Andie and I were both very jealous. Prom, no matter what anyone says, is very fun. There is one key to having fun at prom: Not being in high school anymore. All that stuff that people say about how if they only knew then what they know now is so true! I went to prom two years ago with my friend Bronwyn (and Tollef, age 18, went with my friend Anna, age 26...and Skot was there, too), and it was SOOOO fun. If you want me to go to prom with you, and have enough money to fly me to where you are, then maybe you should email me. Or, if you just want to hang out and want to fly me (and Tollef?) out there for crazy times (such as this), please email me.


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