so, let it be written
I suppose that in March I have a "Spring energy spurt". I hope to fuck that I can keep last year in mind, and just take it slow, no matter what I feel up to doing on any particular day. I have to. If I want to live, I have to. If I want to die, then I have to fake like I want to live and take things slow anyway. One day... one hour... one minute at a time.
Note to self - It makes sense that you want to run, that it feels like "play or perish". Your very genes are telling you to do this, it's programmed into our DNA from a long, long time ago! Just do me a favor and don't. Stay! Please! Rise Above! I guarantee that you'll be glad that you did. You can't undo the past, but maybe you can "pre-do" the future.
Where are you? You're supposed to be here!
Don't do it again.
If not for me, then do it for the world.
It's a sin.
I feel like I have to split my (24 hours) days into two, as tired as I've been. Damn legs keep giving out. I guess that maybe it just takes to much focus to keep them from giving out, and I don't have the focus.
Not that I don't have the freedom to just stay the hell in bed, it just drives me nuts sometimes. (Pun cringed over.) The mind is active and wanting to DO, and the body keeps trying to curl into a ball. A stressed and pressed, typically active person might be envious of my freedom to let it do so. I'd gladly trade circumstances.
Neither one of us truly knows how the other one lives or suffers.
We just envy.
for the birds
Mr. Chickadee would like me to tell you that he doesn't always say "mi-re", that very often he says "re-do".
Yeesh. Some birds, I'll tell ya...
Blinded by the light
tblog is running really slowly right now. I feel like I am as well. Fatigue. MS fatigue; the lucky ones never have to experience Insomnia along with it. I've been lucky lately. Managing to get a few hours a night. Broken up or not, it's still sleep, and sleep is worth more to me than anything else I can think of.
The air has shifted, so to speak. Despite the morning's small dose of snow, it still feels like Spring. Memories of Springs past tease me. Perhaps, in the future, a memory of this moment will tease me. I don't know if that will make me "lucky" or not though. I guess that it depends on the way I'll be looking at it then. Fuck, right now, I think it'll depend on whether or not I can "look" at all.
I think that I described it before, but in case I didn't...
When you're losing your sight to my specific MS monster, things don't just suddenly get darker. Things slowly white out. They fade. Lime green and Olive green start to look alike, greys fade into white... hues start to blend. The glare from the tv or computer screen blends with the image. You have to become an expert at reading "blur". You also get double vision, with one eye closed. I saw two moons, once, back in '04 when the right eye went.
I keep hoping that even if this one goes, that it will come back, at least to some extent, like the right one did.
I hate this fucking disease.
What I learned in college.
The "mi-re" birds are back. I don't know what kind of bird it is, but it's call is "mi-re". "mi-re" over and over and over again.
During the hot season of 2005, when I was staying with RavensWings and her mom, I made a joke of the "mi-re" bird call, whistling back and forth with the local "mi-re's". I usually opted for a "re-mi" whistle, but aside from whistling to the actual "mi-re's", I often opted to compare it to the StarTrek TNG door "knock" sound, and would go for hours saying, "beedie boodoop" to RavensWings, or to myself, or just for the hell of it. The TNG door sound isn't exactly a "mi-re", but it's close enough, and even funnier than giving the birds the "mary" part of the little lamb song, then following them up with "hadda little lamb". The humor was not lost.
The "mi-re" birds are back for the season.
It's just not as funny anymore.
Three and Nine
I feel like the most important thing for me to do today is just to recover from yesterday. Not that it's not a required "to-do" every day, but yesterday was particularly brutal, online and off.
March is coming, and I suppose that in a way it's like September. It's the time where I start being more affected by the fear of what is coming than I am by the reality of the present. In September, I know that November is coming; in March, I know that May is.
I want, very much, to feel that I'll be ok. I want to feel that this hot season won't be as bad as the last one was. ...but it's already starting. It's already picking up speed in the "worsening" department. I feel the Spring, and in my world, it is not a good feeling.
SirThinksalot is due for another photo shoot soon. In the past, I looked forward to seeing his pictures. This time, for the first time, I am genuinely scared of what I'll see. Before, it was proof that I wasn't just making up the problems I was telling people I was having. This time? I don't know. Maybe I fear it driving home the point... that there really is nothing I can do to stop this disease from being active and progressing.
In my online travels, I've come across a couple of people whose MS seems to be affecting them in a very similar way to how my own is affecting me. Our lives are different, but the disease is the same, and many of the symptoms seem the same.
I feel for those people. I feel for everyone with this disease, but it seems to affect me more profoundly when I can see myself when I'm looking at them.
It breaks my heart that there is nothing I can do for them. It breaks my heart that there is nothing I can do for myself, because I want to be able to do for others.
Everything I can do for myself, I am doing for myself. ...and I still can't help them.
As I watch them going down, I am never more aware of the fact that I am.
At the end of the day.
Over and over and over again, I have ended up in the position to have to learn the same exact motherfucking lesson. ...and I claim to be intelligent?!!?! The SAME FUCKING LESSON, OVER AND OVER AGAIN, since I was a BABY!!!
IT'S STUFF!!!!!!
You can't take it with you!
If someone needs to see your stuff in order to treat you with respect, they're not the type of person who you should be showing your stuff to in the first place!
YOU are NOT your stuff!!!
You're not your books, your journals, your computer, your past, your friends or family or anyone else... OR YOUR ARCHIVES!!!
If you're a good person, you're a good person. You don't need to prove it to anyone! Let them judge you! It makes THEM look worse than it will ever make you look!
Parents can take your stuff away; fires can; police can; doctors and nurses can; theft can; poverty can; the government can; accidents can; computer crashes can; hackers can!!!
YOU. YOU are all you've really got!
Have some fucking faith in yourself and LET IT GO!!!!!!
look what I can do!
There's a part of me that wants to write for quite a while on this, but all that I'm really feeling is... "figures."
Just click on the link, to the right, to what used to be my "condensed archives" site.
Yeah.
fuck.
This is me... not having a complete meltdown.
Say that to my face!
Often, the Internet reminds me of when I was younger... how people felt safe saying completely offensive things to us Punker-types... as long as they were yelling those things from the safety of their cars.
I've seen many, many people be viciously attacked online, both by individuals, and by "cliques". Only rarely do these people have anyone protesting the attack either, as others fear being attacked by the same people themselves.
It's a lot like life.
The best and worst thing about the Internet is "anonymity".
Thoughts on pack mentality.
...just something I wrote once...
If you are more able than I, to care for the pack, I will gladly enable you to do so, as my caring about the pack takes precedence over my caring about my own ego.
Your ability to care for the pack is determined by the pack, not by your desire for recognition.
Blaming me for your wounds only gives me power over you in the eyes of others.
Before attempting to ally yourself with a pack, find out what they feed on. Chances are, they might view you as their prey and so will gladly grant you temporary passage.
Life's a boar.
The most constantly viewed tattoo on my body is located on my left hand. It is the most difficult to "hide". With the one on my head and the one on my neck, all I have to do is grow hair, if I want to hide them. Shirt sleeves and pants easily cover the bulk of the rest. The one on my hand though, cannot be covered so easily.
Depending on how you look at it, it is either a crescent moon (waning was the intention), or a solar eclipse. The meaning, to me, is the same either way. It is the "darkness" I pay homage to. My "path" is that of "the left hand".
I've always viewed the moon as more of a deity than I have the other more recognized Gods and Goddesses. The moon, the one I can most often see in my night sky, I consider on many levels to be, my "true" mother. ...and she has guided me well.
So, to all of you who recognize and/or celebrate the "lunar new year", I hope that you had a Merry Moon Day, or are having many Merry Moon Days!
Explanation #167,867 (plus)
Because there's a lot going on, I might be a bit jumpy.
I'm sorry if I jump at any of you. I'm just feeling a bit scared, and so I'm becoming a bit (more) infantile (than usual).
I'm trying to do my best to keep the rage from the page, because I don't want to hurl shit at the people who are doing their best to do whatever they can for me.
It sucks for me, but this place is not somewhere I can allow myself to vent as freely as I once did. I don't have the energy to keep reassuring people, explaining myself, and re-wording everything I write... not anymore.
That's just the way it is.
and I don't wanna miss a thing
I shouldn't be up. I need sleep. The wind was howling too loudly though, so I'm up.
There are at least a dozen blogs I want to catch up on reading, but even thinking about reading is making my eyes hurt.
I've been having some trouble with my vision lately. Seems that my left eye is having issues. I'll (probably safely) assume that it's the optic nerve. Neurodude said that both of my optic nerves were pale, last time I went in for a visit. I've had what I call a "perma-gnat" in my left eye for about a year now. It's a speck which I think is a gnat every time I'm outside. Don't know if it's brain, eye, or optic nerve related, but whatever the cause, it seems it's here to stay. It was pretty annoying at first, but I learned to laugh at it (hence my naming it). Now though, things are starting to blur and fade when I try to see out of that eye.
It makes me feel sad, and actually, a little scared too.
On that note...
good night - sleep tight - don't let the perma-gnats bite
oops?
I posted.
It was eaten.
whatever.
Life in Internetville sucks shit.
because it DOES suck
I swear, it seems like everyone I know and don't know is going through some major shit right now.
It breaks my heart, not just because they are going through what they are, but because I feel that I can't do a damn thing to help them.
I don't know how to fix this! I can say, "Start at home!" and attempt to "prioritize" where I focus my energy, but every time I try, I just end up feeling crappy because there's someone else out there who NEEDS.
What in HELL is wrong with this world?!!?? There are SO DAMN MANY of US, and we can't manage to get the "HELP!!!!" thing in line?!!?
FUCK!!!
Do us a favor...
Do one nice thing (nice in THEIR opinion) for one person today. Don't talk about it later, don't expect thanks, and don't attach strings. Just do it because it's the right thing to do!
...and then, maybe, do it again tomorrow.
What the hell can it hurt?
sharing air
My brain is going too fast... it keeps slipping into "fixit!" mode.
I have trouble balancing that... when I care for someone, I often forget that they don't need me to fix it, they just need me to care. I struggle to just shut the fuck up and listen, very often. Too, due to not having much in my life in the way of real conversation, including the casual sort, the floodgates tend to burst at the first opportunity.
I think that the Internet can be bad for that sort of problem. Online, it's I talk and say all that I want to say, then you reply with all you want to say when you're ready, then I reply with all I want to say when I'm ready, etc. In "real life" it just doesn't work that way. In real life, you can be quiet while someone is talking because just your being in the same space with them can be reassuring them that you're listening. Your facial expressions can show them you hear and/or care.
I've been basically living online since the middle of 1999. Phone conversations are an entirely different thing, but much of the same applies... it's still not "real".
I miss it.
just another day
I'm feeling pretty wiped, but I got to go to the store and out to lunch with RavensWings. I hate that it drains me, but more than appreciate both the help and the bit of company.
Nessie didn't do so well on the ice, but I didn't fall, so that's a plus.
I suppose that I'm a bit distracted... thinking about my friend and feeling more than a little frustrated that I can't be there with her. Hospitals suck. There's no other way to put it. My "complete goofball" skills could maybe be put to good use. The "Nessie and Chairy Show" alone is better than what they offer to calm you down.
I just hope that whatever they're going to put her through, she'll come away from all of it with some answers, and some hope. There's nothing more frustrating than "We're not sure." aside from "We don't know."
Stupid doctors.
I know she gave me all that she wore
Someone I care for very, very deeply has to go into the hospital tomorrow. For a while, maybe. Tests... lots of tests.
I thank the fates that I can be here for her... that my heart still has a sense of direction... but it completely devastates me that I cannot be there for her.
It has, for many, many years.
My eyes hurt
I sincerely doubt that I will be able to start somewhere new. I can barely manage this anymore.
I'd post my e-mail address so that people can keep in touch, but e-mail overwhelms me. Everything overwhelms me.
One way to "keep track" of me is to start off at the "Various blogs I read" entry. If you're a little clever, you'll be able to find me at both LiveJournal (check the LJ friends lists of people who are LJ users) and at MySpace (*cough cough* Dstar *cough cough*). My Blogger - BlogSpot profile will just lead you back here. Just about everywhere online, when it comes to me, will just lead you back here. I set it up that way on purpose, because I couldn't keep up with anything else anymore.
I'm tired.
a sun in somebody else's sky
From what I can tell, tblog seems to be "going down". They're not letting anyone else open an account, and so fuck me and everything I did over the last month or so in order to make up for the fact that some stupid stalker twit was fucking with me.
I have some decisions to make, I guess. At the moment, I'm angry. I gave tblog A LOT of traffic, and quite a few users, to say nothing of the money I actually paid when they still had paid accounts. It feels like a slap in the face, and there's no way in FUCK I'll go over to their new site and try in earnest to help them out.
I have accounts already at a few other blog places... MySpace, LiveJournal, Blogger or Blogspot, BloggerTeam... but this is my home base.
In truth? Yeah. If people want to find me, they will. If people aren't in my life now, that's on them. I more than went out of my way to make myself available to them.
I dunno... there's something slightly tempting to "starting fresh"... dumping all the baggage...
This blog has become an "addiction". I'm completely obsessive/compulsive when it comes to this blog.
It's a bit of a challenge too, as I alluded to in my last entry. It's pretty fucking stupid though, if I stand back and look at it. Who the fuck am I trying to prove myself to? There IS no diploma. There is no credit. There is no title. There's just a bunch of archives which basically no one can even get through reading. FUCK! At this point, even I can't get through them!
If I move, which I very well might, I won't vanish. I'll post a link here, and leave it up for a while.
I dropped out of High School, with parental consent, about one month before finishing my "Junior year" (which was, in actuality, my second Sophomore year, because of a LONG story which I cannot type out right now) of that one; the most prestigious of the lot. I graduated from a High School that was attached to a Mental Institution, on time because I managed to catch up with everything in less than a year, because I was forced to. College, which I attended about a decade later, was a joke. I KNOW THIS! So why the FUCK do I keep trying to prove myself WRONG!!!!!! (Why the FUCK do I keep trying to prove everyone else RIGHT???!!!)
maybe because... if I can blame myself, I can fix it. maybe because... if it's my own fault, I can off myself, because it'll just be me finally doing something right... something for the "greater good"... putting everyone else out of my misery. How dreadfully dramatic!!!
Your tattoos will never mean to anyone else what they mean to you.
All the love gone bad turned my world to black...
As if
If this whole thing was like... fer real?
I'd be in the end of my Junior year at tbog U.
If I make it like... another year or so without dropping out, do I get a fancy shmancy piece of paper to hang on my wall or something?
woohoo?
Wow, the site seems to be functional again. Fun stuff.
I'm so glad that my life doesn't actually revolve around this place.
Just out of curiosity...
I'm asking this question of those who have expressed (or just feel) the desire to "do" something which I might really benefit from...
About how long would it take you to save up enough money (travel, food, hotel), plan (time off from whatever you need time off from), and arrive at a pre-set (public) location in New England for a few days?
all I can come up with is that
Ouch, I say!
Been in bed, mostly. Out of need more than want. Blogging in my head, I guess. That can get confusing sometimes. I don't know if I said something online, in my head, on the phone, or to myself.
When I'm not doing well, more so than usual, I suppose that I react just like anyone else reacts. When you feel scared, you long for what is familiar; for what feels safe. I suppose that what I did in my head is to replace "mommy" with "Philly", once the reality of "mommy" finally sunk into my brain. Truth is though, "Philly" is about as realistic as "mommy". Inside, I know this, but it breaks my heart knowing it.
People ask what they can do, because they care, and I have no answer for them. No one can make my disease go away, and my disease is the problem. People, complete strangers, have bent over backwards for me. Even online, people will somehow manage to make it to my blog just to show me that they're thinking about me. It does not go unnoticed, and I value it beyond expression, but is it "enough"? Well, on many levels, of course not! ...but on others, of course it is!
I won't be satisfied until I am healthy. There is no getting healthy though, there's just trying to get through the days until SirThinksalot decides to finally quit.
Aside from my "parents", no one deserves to have my misery smeared all over them. On some days though, I even find myself trying to just forgive (and forget?) my parents, because I'm just too tired to even care anymore, let alone hope for change. Sometimes, I can manage to just settle in with "It's no one's fault. It's just life. Nothing personal." Sometimes.
When babies are suffering, they cry... they throw tantrums until mommy or daddy comes and makes it all better, or at least gives the baby the illusion that it will eventually be all better.
My becoming infantile when I'm suffering isn't really so odd, my tantrums just have words involved, that's all. Y'all get to "hear" it, because aside from a few hours once a week, you are the people I come in contact with. I have the occasional phone conversation, but I really can't manage the phone too well either. Mostly, it's just me talking to myself... or blogging. (same difference?)
In the end, I guess that sometimes when you stub your toe, you just want someone to hear you say, "ouch!"
Retro
It might benefit me if it were easier to keep this reality in mind.
I logically understand it, it's just tough to keep it in mind when I'm hurting... which is pretty often these days.
Just mentioning...
If any of you have been reading this blog from the beginning, you may have noticed that there has been one main theme which has been the main theme from day one.
I want to go home.
The only thing that gives me any desire to be here in New England is my proximity to "RavensWings". Not that that's anything small, but this is not my home.
I need housing in Philly. Clean, quiet, and affordable housing. my brother is in Philly. I have a few friends in Philly. The only doctor worth his weight in spit I've ever worked with is in Philly.
So, what can anyone "DO"? Well, if you're not in New England or in Philly, or able to get me back to Philly, probably not much of anything, aside from what you're already doing.
I was having a very rough day, and night, and I needed to vent. I did not mean to cause anyone to think that their caring was not very much appreciated by me.
Sorry if it came across that way.
thanks for caring
You know what? I am NOT going to make it through another year without HELP.
"I care I care I care" is nice. Makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside, but you know what? I do NOT need people to CARE. I need people to DO!!!!!!
I have ONE person, barely getting by herself, who is helping me!!!!!!
My mother is a SICK TWISTED CUNT!
My "father" is a self centered ASSHOLE who prefers the Mid-East desert to paying his fucking school loans!!!!!! who prefers the Mid-East desert to being a FATHER, a GRANDFATHER, a FUCKING HUMAN BEING!!!!!!
It's NOT that I don't care about any of you, it's that I'M GOING DOWN!!!!!!
WhattheFUCKever.
There won't be a funeral.
I've requested such.
I'm not a lawyer, but...
Sometimes, when my computer goes bonkers on me in the middle of writing an entry, I just take it as a "sign" that I shouldn't be discussing the issue.
Damn shame. It was a really cool observation.
I'll just leave a hint. If my computer goes bonkers on me again, before I submit this one, I'll leave it be.
Take a good look at my last entry...
I have trouble stepping outside of my emotions?
(8:23 pm - More and more, when I post something, all I want to do later is delete it.)
It's a lemon.
You know... sometimes, when I can manage to step aside from my emotions, I realize that all of this really is just "survival of the fittest."
All the disease, the poverty, the suffering, the fear, the loss, the longing, the hunger... all of it. In truth, if you're "fit", you are not affected by any of it. You're fine. You'll be fine. Your children will most likely be fine too, and their children, and their children, and so forth.
It's just that the "face" of "fittest" has changed along with the progress of humanity. It doesn't matter if it's "good" progress or "bad" progress, it's progress ("good" and "bad" are subjective)... it's forward movement in a direction.
If 99% of the world's population should die off tomorrow, the 1% who are left will be the ones who somehow figured out a way, or were healthy enough to survive. Whether it's good genes, or the ability to plan for or deal with the worst, or anything else, it will be that which determines the next step... the next "ultimate destination", and who arrives at it. It will determine the next face of "fittest".
If we manage to kill off 100%, it'll be up to a species that is "fitter" than we were to pick up the ball and run with it, that's all.
As long as there is life, there will be progress.
Yeah. woohoo.
I'm not too good at the whole "stepping outside of my emotions" thing, and so I often throw the lemons back at the fuckers who threw them at me.
I figure they're probably a lot better at making lemonade than I am, and at least it makes me feel good, "fit" or not.
Glued and un
I used to enjoy watching football. Now, unless the Eagles are playing and the game happens to be being aired here... not so much. It's the commercials. Funny, the same thing which causes me to want to watch the Super Bowl, no matter who's playing, is the same thing which is killing my overall interest in the NFL.
I like to laugh. That's why I like watching the Super Bowl. I cannot stand the half time shows. I like to laugh, not to be treated to pop stars getting way more exposure than they currently need.
I don't know that I'll be glued to the set this year though, commercials or no. I can't sit still for that long anymore, and I can't get all nerved up trying not to miss a commercial break. It's rare that I can even sit through a movie. (On Demand ROCKS!)
Yeah... TV can completely stress me sick. So can the Internet.
Obsessive... Compulsive...
Fuck forbid my brain should figure out how to just relax.
not to anyone specific
I've been trying to do some serious thinking lately; more serious than usual. I'm not doing well, but I'm never doing well. Getting better happens... every now and again, for about an hour or so. Usually, I push myself way too hard during those times. I get my hopes up, I suppose.
Deciding to do that 1994 project was not entirely a mistake, but I think that attempting to continue it beyond this point would be. My sense of time is pretty warped, and it doesn't help me to stay present to have to focus on problems which existed 13 years ago. My feeling obligated to explain everything it took me a lifetime to figure out, in order to avoid a windfall of questions? It's a lose-lose situation for me. It drains from the energy I have on hand for handling my current problems; the ones I'm trying to deal with now.
I'm very angry about a lot of what has happened on this blog over the last month. I'm very angry about the state of my life, which I'm powerless to change. I'm very angry about the state of the world, which I am also powerless to change.
I started this blog as a place to go when I needed to vent, and scream at the universe. This is not a place for me to run around tossing out rays of sunshine and happiness. If people want sunshine and happiness, they can go elsewhere, or they can start a blog of their own.
YOU cannot solve my problems. I have 24 hours a day, 365 days a year, and Internet access, and I can apply my rather intelligent brain to solving my own problems. What the hell makes any of you think that you can spend an hour or two on one of my problems and find the fucking answer?
ok... calming down...
I got a really shitty deal when I was born, and the shit kept coming after that, right up until this very moment. That's just life. I know this. I've done my best to make it through, and to be the best person I can be. Part of what enabled me to make it this far was writing. It was and still is an "outlet" for me. It's "somewhere I can go and talk about" wanting to shit down people's throats, rather than actually doing so.
Offline? I'm probably one of the nicest guys you'll ever meet. You'll not see too much of the "Cutter" you know and love to hate offline. Not that I don't have a temper, and not that I don't often get mouthy when I feel pushed, but as long as the MS isn't eating away at just the wrong spot, if our paths cross it's more likely that you'll be smiling after we meet than wanting to throw shit at my head.
I'm not here to argue with people. I'm not here to defend my entire life, and I'm not even here enrich yours. To me, this is my blog. This is not a "community" space. I don't owe anyone anything, unless I am in their space. This isn't a chat room or a message board.
I know that people are reading. I know that people want to help. That makes me feel good. If I have a specific problem which I need help with though, I am very direct when it comes to asking for that help. I don't beat around the bush or manipulate when I need something. That is not what my venting is all about.
My rants are for "pressure release" and my musings are tossed out in case someone else can get something positive from them. That's all.
All that said... I appreciate your caring. I appreciate your letting me know that you do care. I care about you too. All of you.
It does occur to me
that maybe if I put less energy into trying to save the whole fucking world, I could give more of it to the people who actually do give a flying fuck about me.
I think it's the delusion that the whole fucking world gives a flying fuck about me which might be the fucking problem in the first fucking place.
Must be a Psych issue. Early in life I learned that no matter how deplorably someone treats you, it doesn't mean that they don't love you.
I need to really get it through my head that, that is a load of horse shit. Yeah. Problem is, my heart is holding out for the day where I find out that it was all just a big joke... that the people who mattered the most to me in life will suddenly come through and actually start acting like they actually do care.
...that all it took was time. Good things come to those who wait. Right?
LDN
Sorry Cutter, but Chief Neurocrunchy won't ok that medication for you. It hasn't been proven to do any good. Using it for MS would be an "off label" use.
Yeah. Fuck me for hoping, and fuck everyone else with MS who told me that it was a wonder drug for them, as apparently they don't know what they're talking about, so their opinions don't count.
FUCK!!!!!!
I tried.
Do I get a fucking cookie or something?
Assholes
013094
PLEASE NOTE! This writing is from 1994!!!
Jan 30
At J______'s. About to leave for tonight's Poetry Slam at Dobbs. Feeling very bitchy and very tired. PMS sucks.
Loving all the time I am spending with J___, but being scared of smothering each other. Time apart seems appropriate, but in no way do I really desire it.
Nights spent so close. Wrapped around her while sleeping. Feeling so incredible and wonderful. Wanting so badly for this happiness to continue forever.
1/2 hour before I have to leave. I need a nap, but there's no alarm. Oh well. Anyway, my brain's not in writing mode.
previous entry in series beginning of series
Up the hill backwards
Why, after spending about six hours on one entry, do I feel the need to further clarify myself on the topic?
Don't worry about it, Cutter. Rome wasn't built in a day.
