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a tree of text, of honor and respect.


year two-thousand and eleven, day eighty-eight



Dr. Jane Goodall

Doesn’t her last name say it all?

My first role model, and idol, since the 5th grade.

My inspiration to follow my purpose:

to further bridge the gap between humans and the rest of the

animal kingdom, of which we are a part. From her efforts we have gained a

once inconceivable depth of  knowledge and understanding

of our species, and in our gratitude to her, we owe the ethical treatment of our planet,





within it.




day thirty-one

i haven’t been writing in my blag every day like i told myself i was supposed to, but that’s because i also told myself i’m supposed to be enjoying every moment; living in the “now.” that doesn’t always include writing in my blag. hence the gap in updates. but i did write this on my phone’s notepad not too long ago on day twenty-seven.

we writhed and tangled and touched and giggled. we explored each others mouths with hunger. i lay admiring this live statue, with its carved abdomen and flesh that melted under my fingers. his pulse matched mine: in my chest, my throat, my mouth. every time a hair made its way into my mouth, i smiled to myself at the thought of being close enough to receive such gifts.

needless to say, i’m fucking living it up at the moment.

go me!



day eleven is now day twelve

ready for independence but not responsibility. ready to shower on my own, but not to get my own cereal bowl.

ready to stand, but not to fall.

not failure


day one hundred and twenty-six

i haven’t failed. i’ve simply been living my life, without documentation. i think i prefer experiencing it to describing it.

for now anyway.

acceptance is the goal for today.

mission accomplished.



day thirty-two

life feeds on life breeds life creates dimensions.

Escher was brilliant, and understood the universe in a way most people would choose to ignore, but i’d rather embrace.

watch yr dub step


i am giddy to walk around in my walker, like a child doing so for the first time. the soreness feels like productivity. the exhaustion feels like relief. damn, did i miss being tall.

things are looking up.

i am standing up.


bad girl


day nine becomes day ten

woe is me. i get stuck in love, which wouldn’t be such a bad thing if it weren’t so damn easy to get in but not out. i feel like alice when she greedily drank from the bottle in order to become the size of my pinky nail only to find out she left the key on the table. it feels like attempting to gain control is clutching that key as though your life depends on it. i keep growing & shrinking & growing & shrinking only to find that the key is jammed up my ass and i wonder why i’m not having all that much fun.