Beware of retrovinus sneak attack pregnancies.

[ready_for_you]

So the hiatus between my livejournal and my real journal is quite astounding. Though I don't really keep a journal for anything but a confidant slash confessional these days. I bet it would be a lot more interesting for all the world to read than the crap I post here. Right about now I am sitting outside on our deck that over looks the incredible mountain-scape. But I must admit the deers staring me down and the rattling from what I assume is a scaryass rattlesnack is freaking me out. I really do try to be all 'of the nature' but swatting yourself in the face gets old after a few minutes. So I wonder why people, or in this case I, even write in my journal to confess my inner most embarrassing and sometimes terrifying thoughts. Of course I could confide in any of my close friends, but what does writing it down do? Validate my fears or whatever emotion I'm trying to repress at the time, I guess. Though speaking about my emotional retardation recently made me evaluate it a bit more in retrospect and what I gather is that though I am comfortable with myself inside enough to scratch by living life, the more comfortable with yourself that you become, the more you can grow and excel personally. Man, it must take some people their whole lives to figure this stuff out. I think I started becoming aware of this development type awareness after sophomore year of highschool - and any one could tell you that year was disasterous for me. A great and difficult learning experience, nevertheless. I usually take pride in the fact that I can learn from other people's mistakes but apparently, that one I made to make myself. Gosh it was messy too. Anyhow, this idea of being comfortable. I realized a few things, accepted them, didn't get freaked out by them, and now have moved on and incorporated them into my life. What happened to me this summer was huge, and this isn't the time to say I wouldn't trade it for anything, because yes I'd trade it for cookie dough ice cream and 100 punches in the stomach. That seems fair enough to me. I swear I attract the plague.
It's funny, only three people on Earth actually know I have an LJ, but I haven't written in it for so long, they probably forgot it as quickly as I did.
Okay in the 15 minutes I've been typing away out here, a veil has covered my dusk-light. So I'll just scurry on inside to the house of the dead. And that should sound a lot less like a good time than the playing the awesome game.