after four am and i've been dealing with formatting and re-formatting tables and charts most of the night which had to be done but i hated facing up to them and trying to figure out how to tell a somewhat interesting story or at least one that doesn't me tired before i've finished a single sentence. i'm getting there. at least i don't have the panic attacks that i used to have to deal with that almost forced me to walk away from the data in the first place.

i had a daydream earlier about being back in seattle, taking ferries to all the nearby islands, driving up to vancouver, sitting around and drinking good coffee, GREAT coffee...writing. that's what i want to do. write. create new combinations of narrative media. i'd like to live there again someday because, honestly, it's one of the few places that just felt like "home" to me and i really can't explain why that is...maybe it has something to do with the fairy tale dreams, maybe it's about letting go...maybe, maybe, maybe...who knows? but i've had the dream again recently...you just appeared there, appeared in my dream...but you couldn't hurt me anymore and the sneer you always used to wear was gone from your face. maybe time had done that to you or maybe it was simply what i wanted to see...but i wonder how it had ever crossed my mind that the knife i'd held, the knife that left it's mark on me time and time again, would ever take the hurt away, would ever make me forget...but not just you...not just you...

i cross...and i wonder...did you find what you were looking for, my pained and painted lady?