Gee, for some reason lately, it's gotten really hard to write in this journal. I feel like I have absolutely nothing of any worth to throw out onto screen. Let's see what question comes out of ye olde journal jar...

Ah synchronicity...1.) What have you learned about yourself and the world around you from your journalling? 2.) Are you satisfied with what you are gaining from your journalling? and 3.) If not, what can you do to change things?

Well - just git to the heart of the issue and don't let me change the subject, why don't you???

I've learned quite a bit in the course of writing this journal. I've learned that even though I had thought that all feeling, emotion and art had left my being, I still have them intact and that it's o.k. to express them...o.k., o.k., I'm still working on expressing them. Lately, it's been interesting in this area - it seems like more times than not when I open my mouth to throw in my two cents, there is someone saying, "No, no, no!" It's been happening alot at the center - but that's a whole 'nother topic that I really don't want to get started on. (Oh yeah - one thing I have learned to express is irritation...can you tell???) It's put me in a very uncomfortable place where I feel vulnerable and ready to strike in case of attack - it feels like a really long flashback from my childhood....it seems that my journals - online and off - are the only places where I can just let my hair down and let fly.

For the most part, I am happy with what comes out of the journalling. There are still a few areas that have sacred cows in them that are in desperate need of slaughtering so that the soul can eat and the only way to do this is to go ahead and spit out what needs to be said.

Several of those aforementioned sacred cows were mooing quite loud this week. Both C.M. and my mom came into my 'sanctuary' this week. I didn't want them there but it was unavoidable. I was so afraid that either one of them would start poking around and find something that they weren't supposed to and then, of course, all the horrified questioning would begin. (Well, let me amend that - it would be horrified questioning from my mother, material for sly jabs and jokes for C.M.) It's a shame that I have to play this game in the first place.