Navel Gazing of the Pointless Nature

       Sometimes, I find I can look over my shoulder and discover great amounts of time have escaped by my world and I am unable to account for these tick tock moments. Meaning, if someone inquired as to what I've been doing for the past several weeks, I would simply shrug my shoulders and reply, "stuff, something, things, you know......just life gazing."

            During my delightful gazing, I've wrote quite a bit. No shocker there. I've also gone through great pains to organize my writing, a mountain of an accomplishment only I - Rebecca Anne, and OfficeMax can truly understand. Irrational fears of my computer blowing up, AOL being sucked into a Internet black hole never to return, and a house fire of epic proportions spurred my desire to amass, collect into one place and protect my writing.

       For one, I went all the way back to the beginning of this journal and printed out every single solitary entry I've written in Shadow Of The Iris.......complete with ALL the comments ever left. This endeavor required 4 separate trips to Officemax for 1) 3 inch binders 2) good archival paper 3) new three hole punch and 4) the holy mother Mary of sentimental costs.....printer cartridges.

       Add up the hours spanned over 3 days to achieve my original goal with just this journal, plus the fact my printer practically melted by overuse and I turned a bit mind crazy by the time I was done----I wouldn't suggest such an adventure for the faint of heart. By the end of year 2006 I was weeping with joy if that paints a true picture...............then, I tacked all the writing in my Office Word program....etc, etc.....

       I needed a week to recover, navel gaze and beg my printer to forgive me.

       Lets see, what else.......I helped have my Brother committed to the State Mental Hospital. All was good there, until I got a call this week that they think he's doing just fucking fabulous and are sending him home. I don't even want to think about it.

      Here's something thats been bothing me. I love Diet Coke. It is my poison of choice, my drug of caffeine, my daily friend and someoneabsolutely ruined it for me. They informed me that drinking Diet Coke deposits basically formaldehyde in your body. Which means, based on my Diet Coke consumption over the years, that I am a walking, live, embalmed corpse. Welcome to the Land of the Living Dead. Why, why oh why, do people feel the need to ruin a perfectly good addiction with such outlandish realities? Now, every time I sip on my Diet coke, which used to be a ritual of pure enjoyment, visions of mummified Rebecca's dance in my head. Double damnit.

       Not everything lately has been stationary navel gazing and formaldehyde consumption. I've dove head first (literately sometimes) into a new sport that has me outside and satisfying the thrill seeker (death wish) within me. It's gathered steam by several contributing factors, first, I like it, second, far too many people told me I couldn't do it, shouldn't do it, sh'ant attempt it.......which of course welded the seams of my reservations into sheer tenacious 'I'm going to do it just to prove the naysayers wrong' and therefore, I am. (Pray for my bones, then again, they are already preserved by toxic Diet Coke, so perhaps I'm safer then the average human, see....there's always a silver lining to everything)

       I suppose this is the closest to an update I'll ever do. I'm good. All is well in the land of Diet Coke corpses, warped printers, useless mental wards, dangerous sports and comfy navel gazing. Now, I just need alittle (ok, make that major) catch up time~~