6 days since my last post. I'd like to make some excuse that appeals to my natural state of laziness, but I really just wanted to experience without commenting my new life. I've had a naked sick woman soaking in tea in the bathroom. I've trimmed the back of the Woman's head, I've had five people in my room at once to watch a movie on the God TV. I've watched my cat rumble with the Woman's cat, and my cat take the upper hand most of the time. I've seen the Cascades off in the distance, clean and white. I've stood on the front porch in fuzzy bearclaw slippers and watched the rain come down in sheets at midnight. I've had the Woman cry on my shoulder when one of her beloved birds got sick. I've cooked meatloaf for three. I've made my room my own.
I guess, no matter how much I tried to convince myself otherwise, I did expect that when I moved here and out from under my father's generous auspices that my life would be radically different instantaneously, with a whirlwind of huge new experiences and adventures that would awaken my true self. The truth is that the truth of my new life is found in small moments of action, both mundane and abruptly intense.

Sorry, interrupted to watch another round of my cat versus the current top house cat. It was the Thrilla in Manila.

I need to retool my senses, hot-wire them into my instinct, and then filter it back through the reason. Let life come as life is, simple most of the time, complex beyond its bounds.