This submission will be a work in progress, and I could kick myself for not paying better attention. A year ago I wrote about all these weird coincidences, and now,  one year later it's happening again. What I can't remember from that time if I was flaring up with my "Uysterious Coughing Disesase" (so named by me because I have no diagnosis). I am certainly in an active flare right now - and well into a month long course of prednisone.

So, I can't remember most of them because I just started noticing the pattern and not writing them down right away. Now I'm determined to get going on this, so here is what I have so far (having sadly forgotten so many):

1. I saw an actual red-wing blackbird. The next day I found a little plaque that explained about red-wing blackbirds. Admittedly this is my weakest one, but what is weird is that I've lived her for ten year and never saw one before. I used to see them regularly in MN.

2. I was explaining to my daughter about what a raven was, and that they were scary, and that one actually dive-bombed me and hit the back of my head when I was in Chicago. This morning, when I got up and went our there was one sitting at the the top of our pine tree yelling at me.

(Birds! Hm. But the others were not about birds).

3. I looked at my stand up paddleboard and thought about how essential and treasured the fin portion of it is, and my son lost it the next day (where that stupid thing is, is one of the great mysteries of life right now. He just moved it from one car trunk into another and it's vanished)

I'll keep paying attention, and if there are any more I'll write them before I forget them.

7/11 - They are still piling up! And I'm still having trouble holding on to them. I will try to remember.

4. Yesterday I told my husband about how great my school lunches were in Minneapolis in the 1970s. They had a white cheddar mac and cheese and breaded shrimp on the menu for elementary school children. We had a discussion about whether it was some white, processed Velveeta and I argued for real, white cheddar cheese. I'm not sure, but I remember going home and explaining to my parents that this white mac and cheese was something amazing and that my mother had said they must have used white cheddar. Immediately after this discussion, Jim put Milk Street on (a cooking show) and it was all about white cheddar.

5. Today I read my friend (junior high, high school, roommates in our 20s)  Liz's essay in which she comes back in another life as a goat. She has read this, having no idea that my current book has my protagonist's missing father actually come to her in dreams (or more like the astral plane) as a goat.

6. I'm forgetting at least one more! Ugh!

I've been back to working 8 or so hours a day. I forgot all about this stream of consciousness idea until I came back here and looked. It is a decent tool and it did get my writing again. Problem is these rejections - man oh man oh man -- I wonder my Harvard Prof was so sure I'd rise above the slush piles. Maybe she meant rise above the slush piles like The Great Pumpkin rises up over a sincere pumpkin patch.

One thing that surprises me about myself -- collecting these rejection from these agents is much more difficult than I imagined. Each one that comes in tears out a little piece of me even though I KNEW that this is part of the package.

What is worse is that I'm so weak that it makes me want to stop writing.

It doesn't make me want to follow a formula. I know my writing may not be easily pigeon-holed and most agents will advise writers that they must meet this, that, and the other parameters. I feel that this is sad -- the way it is today (and maybe has been forever in one way or another) -- because I don't believe the greatest minds will fit those parameters. And the greatest works of art will definitely be overlooked because the writer is new and stubborn and won't follow the word count or genre norms or whatever.

By no means am I saying that my series is a great work. It's just a fun, scary, intense, occult series for kids that would definitely upset the Christian right (and perhaps the middle too).

Maybe I've made a mistake here trying to run with the big dogs.

I'm definitely a little, weird dog with a few autoimmune diseases.

The reason I am doing the Stream of Consciousness thing is that I don't want to write. I feel my girl calling me, wondering my she has been abandoned when she is just rising up to quite the climax. I just don't have energy and I wish that I could make a bunch of money without working. I don't feel like working my day job at all either which is sad because it is one of my favorite things to do normally. But it isn't normal and the school is closed, YET, we are trying to be there for the students. It is depressing and weird and when the students see that we are close only some 10 of 200 (I guess that's 5%?) show up to our "hangouts.")

I am struggling greatly with people lately. I'm not sure exactly why because I knew that in the history of the world many people are vulnerable to group think, manipulation, scapegoating, and all the other crazy stuff that is happening right now with about half the world's population. I get upset because I have people who are in my life who I used to respect and now I don't because they are so blind to the cult leader(s) they are following.

I think it is human nature. Your parents have this authority over you when you are little, and they use Tide detergent, say. Then you grow up and you naturally gravitate to Tide detergent and feel suspicious when you start dating this girl and she uses All. Some of us -- around the age of eleven for many people -- maybe just me -- begin to question the strongly held beliefs of our parents. For me, one of the first times I remember this was when my mom was mentioning reincarnation as a... I don't know what word she used, but she definitely thought it was impossible. I just thought to myself, well why not? If you believe there is a soul that lives in a flesh and blood body, why is reincarnation any nuttier than any other religious belief.

I was the kind of kid who kept these ideas to myself, but she knew of course that I was thinking differently because she could see the books I was checking out the library. She wasn't thrilled with my choice of reading material and she said something, but here is why my mother is my hero -- she did not do anything about it. I was allowed to read whatever I wanted (outside of pornographic magazines which I did manage to get my hands on too).

Maybe I would be a different person if my parents were "helicopter" or made me feel that I couldn't think for myself.

I think I would be the same, though. I'm stubborn that way. Just because someone I love and respect thinks something, I'm still going to look at the evidence and make up my own mind. Thanks to a decent college education (The New School) I also know how to look past the headlines and find evidence. I even learned to detect problems in reliability and validity in those studies from top institutions that are generally the first ones we would turn to to look for the facts.

So that other 50% or more of individuals who are gullible (because of a lack of a specific type of education) seem like idiots to me. And then I am disappointed because these people who ARE INTELLIGENT are comparatively stupid. The intelligent ones are the worst, because in every other area of their lives, they would be those who I might consult. Here, their intelligence backfires because they do not know that they do not know! And they are used to being smarter than everyone.

Does that make sense! This is the same quality that makes a Nazi. I'm not saying they are Nazis, but I'm sorry to say that in another time and another place -- well, I don't even want to say it.

I just keep coming back to Earth here as school. And LOVE man -- LOVE is what it's all about. It's a hippie cliche, but it's true and it's the only way to fight the good fight -- even when that love has to question the wisdom of that friend who has always been the smart guy you want to turn to, but now seems like an arrogant asshole.

Sorry.

If you are reading this I"m certain you have too much time on your hands. Where are your connectors for you iPhones? You know, so that you can listen to your Apple Music with a regular headphone jack? This makes me furious because it is all designed to force me to buy their stupid, overpriced adaptors. For that reason, I don't have an iPhone. In general, the loss of control I have experienced since I got a smart phone is quite disturbing. I was shocked at how little control I actually have regarding what goes on in that thing. Honestly I'm a bit proud of how I am not attached to my phone. I use it, for sure, but I don't get sick if I don't have it with me and I just love to "lose" it and let it run out of battery just so that I can avoid things. I am wondering what I should write, but I'm wondering about who is reading this.

It is super weird to have an online journal because it means you believe on some level that other people will want to read what you have to say which is most likely not in any way worthy of reading. It is for sure a self-absorbed action. That's fine. I do think I'm pretty wonderful and I think my writing is worth reading even when it sucks. I have a lot of self-esteem about my own thoughts. I do not have much self-esteem when it comes to actually being in social setting with tons of people. I do okay, but it causes me anxiety when it is party where people have to stand around with plates of food and mingle. I don't like to mingle. I like to be out with people I know and trust and not mingle with a bunch of people who are probably assholes who think I'm too old or white or fat or ugly or unfashionable or awkward or socially unintelligent. The other thing is that I do not drink alcohol. This isn't a conscious decision; it just all tastes like bad cough medicine to me. I do pretty darn good for someone who does not drink. I have no buzz to take the edge off of it.

I am relatively happy with isolation, but I do love to get out now and then with friends I trust. That's what makes me happy as an introvert. I love to hang out, go to pubs or restaurants with various interesting atmospheres, but I have GOT to be with people I trust. I really don't like to socialize with coworkers because it just feels like more work. I am somewhat insecure at work. Fortunately I work at home.

I don't like the whole critique idea when it comes to student and art/writing/etc. I think it should be more like theatre where there is the one expert, the one director who tells you your stuff is crap. Other students have such stupid ideas. My hand hurts from all of this typing. I wish I could tune into that "Create Your Own Realtiy" stuff from Seth that would allow me to age without aches and pains because my hand hurts.

I love Vera Farmiga but she is slipping away from me. I think she is taking a long break from acting because she is a peace seeker who just wants to be mom. That means nothing new, no series, no big roles. So I stop being in love with her because she is not there for me to love .Who will be my next TV boyfriend or girlfriend? Who will it be? I'm thinking maybe... I don't know. You can't force it. The love has to happen naturally. Maybe I should go back and watch Newsradio so that i can remember the days of Phil Hartman. He was a different sort of love.

I really don't like cursing. It's so weak. I love a lot of people who enjoy it and in my mind I think them and sometimes I say them, but I truly hesitate to write curses. It seems wrong. It seems like inviting darkness in. That makes me sound religious, but I'm not at all -- it's just a feeling I have. Instinct, intuition.

This is stream of consciousness. No proofreading so deal.

I wonder who you are. I wouldn't want to know if you were an evil troll. I hope you are a fellow human and not an evil troll or demon. I hope you are like Vera Farmiga s Lorraine Warren (you know just brimming with love and psychic powers). You are weird for sure if you read this. I love that about you. Tell me who you are weirdo.

I have twenty-six drafts just waiting for me to hit the publish button, but I'll never do it. I write here even more often but because it is not a typical author blog and it is well-named as a Self Indulgent Online Journal I will often write and erase or never publish because I am better off not putting every inane thought I have out for the world to see.

This is a time of coronavirus.

This has given me more time to utilize my creative energy; sadly it has robbed me of it too. I have no heart to do much of anything other than watch CNN and try to gently and diplomatically encourage idiots that they are wrong about coronavirus. I won't get into it, but let's just say that it has to do with coworkers and friends who use the Appeal to Hypocrisy argument to diminish the seriousness of this pandemic. I've also had a friend send me a supposed cure. I am disheartened.

I have learned how many people are gullible and have never learned to look at statistics and studies for (often surprising) sources of bias. Thank you The New School in NYC and Prof Hirst for teaching me. Education is brilliant. Intelligence without education can lead to very smart people coming up with some very stupid ideas.

So I would like to write some beautiful, painful, and angry poetry. I would like to work on my book. I can feel my lovely little girl character waiting for me as if on pause. But I don't even want to try. I just want to yell. I want to express how very powerless I feel. I would like to be like Ricky Gervais and just say the most offensive, biting, awful things I can think of.

So many things are bothering me right now. I think I need to just do a stream-of-consciousness series. Then, perhaps it will be time to get back to Cult Following and my lovely little character, Madeline Winter. I can feel her hovering around me as if she's real. Maybe she is. A ghost? A spirit? A Jungian thought form?

By the way, the more I keep that Far Side style portrait up, the more I actually look like her.

images.app.goo.gl/ouhV1TWpZLFNbGa29