Sorry Sorry Sorry Sorry Sorry Sorry.

I apologize.

I apologize all the time.
At the slightest hint of conflict. Not even just when I
might have done something wrong. When anybody has
done something wrong. Or somebody might feel that
someone has done something wrong. Or when somebody
is inconvenienced at all. 

I do it to defuse the conflict. I just can't stand fighting
or disharmony anymore; my skin has worn as thing as
a wet layer of paper tissue. I can't take it. I can't take
anything.

It affects the apologies that are meant to be. The heart-
felt "Sorry. I screwed up and I hurts me that I caused
you pain" ones. I am not entirely sure when I actually
feel that way anymore. It all gets lost in the automatism
of apologizing.

And the punchline is... It doesn't even work. 

Murk

Sometimes, I see a hand rise from the murk,

and with surprise, I realize that it is my own.
As all the wet dirt and grime and mud slides down, off the fingers, it looks almost clean, almost normal, as it reaches out for the bark.
But of course, the bark really is a blade of straw.
The mud crashes over my head as I briefly pull the straw down with me before it slips through my fingers and floats back to the surface.

Then, things are as they were.

Man and Women - Domination ? REALLY ?

There should be a video up there.

Blissing Followup

Followup on the "things that bliss you" thing.
Will have to do more of this another time.

Everybody must see this for one reason or another

I usually don't link-or-embed-blog, but 
sometimes, it's very much called for.

An ID Card

I have a card.

There's an old photo of me on it, along
with a very recent notice of renewal.

It says "Schwerbehindert" on it.

It depresses me.

Sort of self-fulfilling.

A Nugget of Brainstuff

Nugget of Brainstuff for today:

Why let what you are not define you,
when there is so much that you are ?