Sometimes colorized output just stabs you in the face when it’s full of errors. Maybe that time is just when it’s 3:30am. Usually when I work all night I come back after dinner, the garage is locked, so have my bike up in the office and ride it around when I’m waiting. As I walk to hit the relay on the damn hippie energy saving light controller relay, again, I wonder where my bike is. When did I get here? Wait, what day is it? When did I sleep last? Oh, right, this afternoon. I got here this morning, well, Monday morning. I think. Right.

But you can make decisions too
And you can have this heart to break

Chapter three opens with commentary about how much (a lot) music “expressed please for return of feeling” and “contained mournful descriptions of the pain of unreturned love”. Some day I’ll write a book about this shit. Oh wait, I did. It’s just a really, really rough draft. Mother thinks she’s read this before and leaves me a note expressing that what touches you is meaningful.

I was thinking earlier about communication and wrote to a stranger:

I’ve been thinking about communication a lot lately. You ever wonder if it’s getting cliche? I mean, I feel like I don’t meet many people who are against communication so all I can think of is social stereotypes. Granted, despite interacting with a relatively disparate set of social groups, my control group is somewhat tainted because I consider the majority of them good people. Hmm. I don’t know, made me think about that.

Through a twist I got thinking about confidence, how I have it, and how I didn’t always. Why I do, and when I feel like I don’t. Vulnerability… Everybody hurts sometimes. How to remember that, when you’ve been hurt? Should you? We flinch for our own safety.