I am 99% atheist. I leave the 1% for the unexplained and there is plenty of that. When things get tough, I talk to the supreme beings. I just have different gods than most people. I realized today in the car, that I answer questions from songs out loud. I respond out loud. I guess I have always done that, but today I was thinking about how people pray or wish for things, and there I was talking out loud. To Willie Nelson. About 50 times a day, on a normal day, I say, “Save Me Willie Nelson!” under my breath. There is that 1%. I do believe someday Willie Nelson will save me. Maybe. He could call me. Maybe.

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To me, it doesn’t matter that Willie Nelson is alive still. He is god, he represents all good and pure things in the world. His music is my heart, and makes me happy. He is my boyfriend, and he is always there. Absolute joy, is what Willie Nelson brings. I would ride in his little red wagon, any day!

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Johnny Cash answers all the questions I have related to science, mathematics and logic. I actually ask him questions when I am confused, which is alot. I look up to the ceiling, take a deep breath and ask him. “Johnny, what in the fuck IS a halogen?” A whole column for halogens on the periodic table, Johnny! Johnny, how am I going to memorize all of the bones in the skeletal system, HOW?! Why can’t everyone have always used one system of measurements, why are Americans idiots? What the hell is a tetrameter anyway, Johnny? It really doesn’t matter what I ask Johnny Cash, because someone texted me this damn internet meme a few years back, and I only need to hear his name, and I see this face. I see this picture, the man in black, eating that cake, higher than a fucking kite. And then I just laugh. Because we are all going to die someday, and I will never have learned enough to make my time on earth worthwhile. There is too much to learn. Sometimes you just have to laugh, and Johnny Cash’s internet meme makes me laugh! If anything, Johnny Cash did know about pharmaceuticals. I am probably praying to him for the wrong thing.

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And finally there is Waylon Jennings.I have always thought Waylon had the most bedroomy of bedroom eyes. Waylon is his own special god, who answers my eternal question, “What the fuck am I gonna do, Hoss?” Sometimes I don’t know what to make for dinner, sometimes I am mad at someone, sometimes I am lost, it doesn’t matter. Waylon answers me the same every time. He simply says, “Just shoot them in the fucking face!” I don’t know why he says that, but it makes me feel better, and I have never had to shoot anyone in the face. Actually, I haven’t shot anyone, anywhere. But if I did, it would be Waylon’s fault for giving me such bad advice. And it would be in the FACE!

Today is a great day for Pizza. Still perfecting the East Coast style crust, sauce from the garden, keep working at it. No Chicago style here, sir. A rare night where there is not much pressing, so just drinking tea, listening to sad songs, falling down the youtube rabbit hole..
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Sons of Anarchy is not real life. Sons of Anarchy is not real life. Sons of Anarchy is not real life. But it might be real. In a pocket universe. Where many members of a tiny town, die. With meat forks in their heads. If I lived in Charming, I would own a funeral home. I am not sure of the course my life will take, after that show is over. I do not watch any other shows, currently…in fact, I hate the television. I hate myself for crying after watching a soap opera about motorcycle gangs. I hate myself for worrying about fictional characters and their mental well-being. And their open oozy wounds, that they are not seeking medical treatment for. They killed Tara. Who’s gonna stitch them up? I hate the term, guilty pleasure. I feel no guilt for watching stupid shows on tv, especially when Bobby Elvis Munson has ric rac sewn on his leather vest. It makes him endearing to me, no one would DO that. No one. Maybe I would. I don’t even have a motorcycle.

This summer has been the summer of Fungi. And fun guys, because I did have some fun. Guys… anyway, there has been so much rain, I guess these little dudes like that. I love mycology. And I love your cology too! I kept on snapping photos all summer every time I saw one! They are little rule breakers. Vandals. Anarchists. And some can kill you. Some make you buy black light posters. I don’t know.

I am a full time student now, which is a very big life change for me. I am am old lady in a big classroom making up for lost time. I am so happy and sleep so well at night, I just don’t sleep enough hours. I have gone from having students to being one. I much prefer the latter. In unrelated news, my phone will make the whole word, skankyhobag, when I only type ska, so I consider that a win! I am now working on another favorite word, JunkyWhore.

I have not been reading much that is not school related. I have been listening to lots of Sam Harris lectures. I love that man. He has been very inspiring to me, and I hope he continues to develop his ideas at the rate he has so far. His new book, Wake Up, offers so much to the non-believer. He has reshaped the way I thought about meditation. I absolutely love his ideas. And that has nothing to do with the fact that I may have been at the same parties he was at in the early nineties. What? Nothing.

Yesterday, I got a wrong number phone call. A girl told me she was pregnant. She was very excited. I was very excited for her, even though I have no idea who the hell it was…wrong number or not, I wished her the best. It was strange. Strange Happy. Strangappy. Stragaphy. Whatever.

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A serious thing happened over the weekend. I was raped by Bono. I have an iPhone and Bono went ahead and put his new goddamn U2 album on my phone. No permission. No nothing. Just THERE it WAS. It is not hard to dislike Bono, because of the sunglasses. And also, because he makes awful music. But really! On my phone, without permission, he just sent that shit from the cloud. I feel very violated. I need a rape kit, I think there is some Bono Nono business in my ear. And it wasn’t just me, lots of people were victims of the auditory rapiness. I was thinking that if Bono can just insert his music on our phones, what is to stop him from sending us text messages? Calling us late at night? What if Bono knows everything we do on our phones? Maybe he is god. Maybe there is a god and it is Bono. I am still going to hell. What if hell is just one never-ending U2 concert? FML man.


Music I have been spinning like crazy: Ozzy, all Ozzy, any Ozzy. Faster Pussycat. Rose Tattoo. Tom Keifer. Michael Trent. AGAINST ME. Over and over on my 40 minute commute with AGAINST ME. Lots of coffee and Coca-Cola. Lots of back and forth. Sometimes twice a day.

I just took all of the social media off of my phone and computer. Damn that felt good! I have been wanting to do that for awhile, but I just kept putting it off. I truly believe that those forms of media serve to divide us. As hard as I try to not get swept up, I find myself scrolling through my timelines and thinking awful things about people for no reason other than some idiotic repost or comment. That isn’t what life is about. What if I took my last breath, and I wasted the ten minutes before arguing about when Metallica sold out. Not IF they sold out, but when. See. Idiotic. I blame myself. We should all play whatever records we want, who really cares? And if in person, someone wants to have an argument, they can see me smile when I argue. They can see when I get too worked up and bobby pins fly out of my hair. (because I forgot they were there.) And I cannot remember ever putting a bobby pin in my hair. They are just there, trusty little soldiers for OCD warriors. I don’t even remember what I was talking about.

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My mom taught me how to make pom pons when I was little. They had to be trimmed and she would let me keep the trimmings. I would put them in a butter dish and pretend they were baby food for my dolls.

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I made three pom pons tonight!

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Then I found my old trusty googley eyes. Everyone should have their own stash of googley eyes.

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Three guys with eyes.

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They are getting homes. I am building them homes out of cardboard and paper. Well, 2 of them. This guy, Tin Foil Hat, he is a free spirit homeless dude!

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I am so happy about that! Yay!

Today when I visited my grandma at the hospital she told us about when my grandpa used to call the square dances. She said he was really good at it, but she would have to dance with someone else. She also told us that he sang when he drove but used his foot to tap along. His foot was also on the gas pedal at the time! It was sweet!

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Cold! Went on a 4 block walk to watch the Packers game. They lost.

Before that we braved the weather to visit my grandma at the hospital. Despite a fluid restriction, she was in great spirits and even said the most inappropriate things to my brother on the phone! Thanks to all that can visit or call! That means so much more to the elderly than the dumb Jesus update on your Facebook. Except my sister Lindy. She repeatedly proves me wrong when I think Christians are selfish assholes. Thanks Lindy!

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There is no better sleep than the night of an anticipated snow storm. My grandma was admitted to the hospital tonight. I am sad for her but happy she will be made comfortable. I am happy my mother makes all the right choices for her.

We are having a late night movie night. I love cartoons! No costumes!

Because you need something to hold your pot in. I mean, with! This ain’t Colorado!

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