the one unadmired for her betrayal of purrsepshun

back on the island. i enjoy how italy has made me stop glowing like a tube light, and theres a dirty tan to cover the paleface.

while i was in italy, i got the chance for a great deal of introspection (yeah, whoda thunk?).

i had had this conversation with ______ earlier in the year. something about 'plans' and how nothing ever works out like you list out on expensive paper with your well sharpened pencil. i get it now. i get it.

my wise, but uncooperative, but surprisingly complimenting professor said to me once, what has turned out to be one of the most important things i have heard; there is no reality, only perception. that has somehow become a motto of sorts. i try to remember it when i deal with anyone or anything, or even just myself. i think once you understand that perception is a tool that is greatly flawed because its like seeing your reflection in water, you gather up tiny pieces to create a picture of yourself that in all probability will be very different from the real dimensions of your face. it's like this problem my brother and i have mused on for years; is the red i see the same as the red you see? and if it isnt, how would we ever know?

and i think on understanding how perception is much like trying to look a your face in a water before a rapid, everything gets more distorted and what was chaos is now uber-chaos sans perception. thus i try to look within myself, rather than at myself.

and i see massiveconstant change.

and i get what ______ was saying because i realise that what i perceive to want, what i perceive i need, will perceptively keep changing.

my plan will never be the same. i feel like a sillyyoungthing for being so adamant about 'this is my plan and i will only do soandso." it must have been laughable. cute even? and i know i rendered him a tad smitten if not more. ah! but perception is an evil friend, and eyes see what they want to see. however, i strongly do feel that my hands are devoid of perception and always itch to reach out and grab what must be grabbed. oh, well.

plans? waste of time.

make them, crush them, make them again.

dont even bother for an eraser. scratch it out, write over it, type over it, whatever you will.

go with the flow, bubba.

i would never pretend to be devoid of change, and i will never again deny my intangibility.

things change, constantly.

i get it.