This is journal-y. It is about 30 minutes after sunrise. I have been awake since about 2 a.m. I listened to a few songs from This Is My Dinner by Sun Kil Moon. I like it, about as much as other Kozelek, but a bit more because it is the most recent.

I was reading a bunch of crap from my blog Ego-youthful. I should not have typed most of it, and I should not have read it again.

I got my first day at Amazon scheduled, the day after Thanksgiving. I'm glad it's all figured out and I don't really have to do anything else, or figure out anything.

I talked with Aaron yesterday. And Andee a little. Aaron is amazed at how little I have done with all of my opportunities. I am too. I am confused at how I can do anything or be anything, I guess. Do I choose with my neurons? I am an animal, I am nature, I am God, correct?

I guess all I should do is read good stuff. Aaron gave me Grace and Freedom by Lonergan. I said I can finish it this month.

I felt like crying a couple times because of things Aaron and Andee said, about difficult things they did and thought... I am bad at explaining these things... God... and Malakai.

I should sleep more this morning. I cried a little, and I was on my bed a bit ago, but I got up, because I was all tingly and squirmy. I put a hoodie and puffy slippers on.

I am going to pee outside again in a minute. I did about 30 minutes ago. I gave Emerson dog biscuits. I think it would be good for my mom and I to play tennis today.

I am glad and grateful for CBS Sunday Morning. It's in my top ten, maybe 5, things I like to watch.

I think I want to drink cocoa and coffee mixed this morning. I really want to listen to all of This Is My Dinner. I want to sleep a little more, because it is good for me, but I do not care much, if I do not feel too bad. I will sleep when I feel like it. I want to eat a salad, because I don't want the greens to go bad, I don't want to feel bad about it, or myself, I don't want to put much effort into making a salad, or taste it, unless it tastes good.

What a weird diary post . . . Bye for now Every One.