Poor Time Management

Sorry I didn't update last night. Poor time management had it so that I couldn't take a turn in the evening. I know it's my laptop, but until we get the desktop back, that's more reflected through formatting than access time.

Anyway, yesterday, I crafted some jewellery, did some work, and got my red stripe in karate. It's weird how my day morphs from yin to yang like that sometimes. Especially since my acknowledgment in both fields is growing, and I've found myself surprisingly capable of adapting to either environment.

I chickened out of going to the chromatic harmonica forum, although someone sent me an e-mail trying to sell chromatic harmonica instructional books. It might just be spam, since it was addressed to a "wallhanger" in general, which is someone with a low post count, but I've never gotten an email from my old account, which is still technically signed up there, and which is attached to the same address, and I only got this email after I made my post expressing my troubles. So if it is random spam, it seems like kind of a big coincidence.

I would say I need to get drunk to check this post, but that's not within my financial means, so I'm going to find a new cowardly way to coward through this. I'll probably get someone else to read it, then ask them a series of questions to feel out how it went slowly, and divise what I need to expect before I read it.

Otherwise, today, I got a call from someone whose name sounds like "Dr. Senior". I... don't know any Dr. Senior. Maybe it's the... psychiatrist? I only got the message on the answering machine, and I only checked it just now...

My dreams have been so boring lately. I used to have such interesting dreams, with things like robot raccoon fetuses being torn out of raccoon corpses, parrots transforming into humans that would talk about vampirism, and bouncing balls attached to strings again 2D objects with 3D
structures drawn on them. Now I dream about being me, having anxiety about dying, education, employment and dislocation. It's basically like real life, except more boring.

A couple years back, I could count the number of nightmares I'd had in my life on one hand. Now, it's the rare occurrence that I don't have a nightmare. This started long before the onset of dislocation... I think I've been deteriorating for some time now, and the breakup just triggered a rapid advance of several stages that would have happened anyway.