Today a friend quoted Oscar Wilde to me, "we are all lying in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars"
There are so many people and attitudes in this world that don't see the stars and do their utmost best to beat down the people that do look at the stars.  They try to beat down the spirit and passion that the people looking at the stars have.

Today was peacful and productive. Most people would be happy with that. But not me.

I wish music would come from the sky every day. It would be like having permanent inspiration filtering down through the rays of light and sound.  Music is so motivating and emotional.  When I listen to music I feel like I could acheive anything and I think about all the wonderful things I want to do.  Then when the music stops and I have to start the mundane tasks of everyday life, the inspiration dissapates.  I wish I knew how to keep the feeling of the motivation with me all the time.  Perhaps I should picture a future me looking down on myself playing out my life, acting out all the things I want to do.  When I'm at the studio painting I always need music to keep me going.  Music is like air for me.  I can't live without it. It keeps my mind and heart full of feeling, propelling my thoughts and desires into action to live out my dreams.

I don't know what sort of 90 days to start. Maybe it's just a desire to have something to follow and try and stick to. Everything in my life seems stuck. I have no motivation to get anything done. It leaves my mind dry and my heart heavy.  There is only one thing that seems to make my body react, makes my heart skip a beat, to feel something stronger than nothing. How do get it to feel like that all the time.

It could be the right time to start another 90 days, yet sometimes I feel that is just setting unrealistic goals that will never be reached. But maybe it's an easy way out, by pretending that I have a time frame then I have the option to return to past behaviours once the 90 days is up. I need to see the whole thing as a 'life' change. If I don't make the change then perhaps I won't last as long as required. I'm not sure why I'm required here though.

If only I could take some moments of my life and make them static, forever holding the intensity of the feeling.

I cannot stand it when my heart sits in my throat longing to swallow the feeling of passion.

Alas, the time passes somewhat seemingly quicker than I would like it to. There are so many things inside my head that I want to do. I have an idea in my head of what I'm going to do and for some reason think I'm going to get it done mighty quick. Now I realise things take time. One step at a time. I resent the practical mundaness of everyday getting in the way of the madness. On one level it brings my madness to a grinding halt, but I really hate it. Hate it, hate it, hate it. There is no reason not to revel in the madness so long as it brings creativity and productivity. Tomorrow (or rather today) should bring that. I will spend a day in the studio finishing a painting and fully intend to begin another. Perhaps it is time to look to the old masters and learn a little.

I'm so tired. It's been a tiring day but I've also inflicted extreme sleepiness upon myself by letting myself lose control, or maybe willing myself to lose control. I love it when I'm this tired and if I let my eyes close I feel like I go straight into lucid dreaming, or maybe it's just a hypnogogic state. It's such an amazing feeling because I feel like I have the control to take myself in and out of a sleeping state, yet there is a feeling of the whole thing being totally out of control. So much of what I do seems to stem from an unwillingness to let my body thrive. There is a sense that if my body is not in a mild state of suffering then I am not learning or experiencing something worthwhile. I wonder how it feels for the body and mind to be connected in a calm and gentle state.

I would love to wake every day feeling excited about the possibilities of the day. Sometimes I do feel like this, but often not. It takes practise but it can be done. People often expect to be able to change the way they think but repeating a few silly 'mantras' to themself or reading a trendy self help book. I don't believe it works that way. It takes time, reinforcement and practice. Yes, I'm sure you can read a book and it may have a profound affect on you but I don't believe you will suddenly be able to change your thinking. There are two books I've read in my life that had a huge impact on changing my thinking. I remember finishing those books and realising that taking on the advice would help me deal with things better. But it didn't mean that I was able to suddenly take on a new style of thinking without ever reverting back to my old style of thinking. When something happended that made me angry or upset I had to consciously try and remember what I'd read in the books and try on get into a headspace where I could use the techniques to try and understand what was happening and how I could change my approach to it. It's quite true what I've heard many so called 'self help gurus' say, and that it, you may not be able to change what is happening around you, but you can change your reaction to it.

Such a bad time of the year to be like me. I'm surrounded by everything that both repulses me and brings me much joy at the same time. It makes me feel both useless and determined at the same time. I long to get up on this day and look at the things around me and make a 'normal' decision about how I will digest the day. I often get to the end of a day and become frantic with promises to myself that tomorrow will be different. I've no idea why I think it will be different. Sometimes it is different from the day before yet it is not different from anything I have done before. From one extreme to the other, I seem to thrive on swinging wildly from one end of the spectrum to the other. I cannot slow my body or my thoughts down enough to let myself naturally balance in the middle. The thoughts are too frantic and my body too traumatised to allow itself to believe it deserves to be sitting beautifully balanced in the middle of the pendulum. Why I believe I don't deserve it remains to be fully recognised but as I let my thoughts fall into oblivion it becomes blindingly obvious to me that I deserve to feel the pain and my body punished.

There are days that I turn right around and consciously go backward (perhaps even deliberately) and I've absolutely no idea why. I know I am at a point where I have to battle the bad thoughts on a daily basis. Yes no, yes no, yes no. Back and forth they go, each one trying to win. Sometimes I momentarily forget what I'm supposed to be obsessing about and then it hits my like lightening and I panic that I've gone too far and while I try and convince myself to back track there's a little rational thought in my brain telling me not to worry about it. But when push comes to shove I always worry about it.

Alas I have one more day of freedom. In my head, I toss around the idea of surviving another 90 days. I imagine myself laying down, somewhere I can watch clouds and make pictures out of the completely random shapes that clouds are. I could lay there for the entire 90 days and see if I don't get hungry. Could I live on air? Possibly not. I can't even explain why I think another 90 days will work. It's never worked before, yet this time it feels slightly different. Perhaps I can change the way I think about things, close my eyes and let the thoughts spin around and around. Sometimes one of the thoughts overrides all the others and becomes an obvious point of contention battling it out with my conscious mind, each one trying to win. But I see myself laying there with little white socks and red patent mary janes. Yet I cannot see how old I am.

I wonder if I should be trying to start 90 days again. But I have no idea where it all begins and where it ends. At least I found today society is going to give me a helping hand, but no one should know that, so don't go telling anyone. I sometimes wonder if one day my body will just decide it's had enough. The problem is, I've no idea if it's just going to sneak up on me and I'll have no warning, so I keep on abusing it no end, and perhaps I'll wake up one day to find my body completely wrecked. Lest it be my mind.

How can it be that I feel like I am in multiple worlds. Crossing back and forth, trying to remember how to fit in each time my mind jolts back to where my body is. It feels somewhat surreal and kinds of like I'm floating with my eyes closed. Behind my eyes a scene unfolds and then I wake to find I am somewhere else.

I feel uneasy tonight. Like a bomb is going to fall out of the sky and I'll have to deal with the aftermath. It would be better to die if that were to happen.

Today I received the equivalent of 20 peoples blood, in the form of gammaglobulin. It takes 10 donors per unit. The two units I have every four weeks equates to 20 people. Perhaps that's why my mind is so scrammbled. I literally don't know who I am. At the very least, I can tell you those 20 people must be somewhat verging on mad. When I feel that first cold flush of medicine pulse through my veins, I really do wonder whose blood, or rather blood product, I am getting. Was it a woman or a man, how old were they, are they boring, what do they like to do. I can only assume they are reasonably healthy as otherwise they probably wouldn't be able to donate. I can also probably assume that they are a somewhat altruistic, having wanted to donate blood in the first place. I have a lot to thank them for. All 20 of them, every four weeks. I realised today how having continuous medical treatment is such an everyday reality and experience for me. I met another lady who was so obviously a first timer. Her whole family was there to 'support' her. I don't even think of what I have done as being a big deal. It's just what I do to live. Mind you, that doesn't mean I haven't had times where I just want stop everything and see what happens, if I would die, even if it be by my own hand. However, the last few weeks have been so good. I haven't felt so good in years. Suddenly I have more energy and a much more positive outlook on life, even if it is somewhat screwed up.

I have an intense fear of Sunday afternoon. I have a fear of the fear. When the clock strikes 12pm I start to worry and anticipate the dread and fear that will arise and increase as the afternoon ticks by. Sometimes the actual happenings of the afternoon are kind of ok, but before I've realised that I've worked my mind into a state of worry and my stomach into knots of dread. It doesn't help when what started out as a sunny bright day has turned into a grey cloudy sky by the afternoon. One of the Dr's told us that drug addicts feel a sense of relief when they are simply anticipating a hit and their body starts to physically respond as if they had actually had the drug. My body is responding this way to Sunday afternoon. A fear of fear. Something that nobody wants to deal with.