And nowadays, all these bizarrely pleasant circumstances and people had come up, like a flotilla of beer (read: any alkie) and salsa dip to harbor me through rough seas. The first I noticed was the kindly woman from the forest. An enigmatic and good person, leaving me with answers and many more interesting questions. She cares for me like I'm an old friend, as if she's met me before. We bounce advice off one another and nod, trying to figure out how to help the people in our respective lives. Part of me is afraid she'll sting when I'm not looking. Maybe it's irrational but I trust her to be humane; she's delicate and strong like spider silk. There are a few other people linked to her, like Cats; they're all good people.

Then there was IAmAMage, who said he liked my style. We talked for a very long time. His life beats mine by leaps and bounds in intrigue: he and his twin were abused, got out, got a place to live with a cult and are now dealing with the fallout and a full-time job...all in the last 3 weeks. Suprisingly he's well-adjusted, thoughtful, curious. I'm intrigued by this cult he's mentioned. I thought I knew about all the cult activity in San Fernando. Maybe these are new players? I'll have to ask him.

Many online and offline people have also been asking me for advice, help with life decisions, relationships, you name it. I used to dole out advice and comfort all the time to people. It's how I made friends when I was younger. I've learned to be more independent and self-sustaining since then, but on occasion someone comes to me and I can't help empathizing with them, trying to give them some direction in what it's like to be different and how to cope.

Aside from my time in the hills and all the people rushing through my mind, my writing is crawling slowly forward. I actually finished that BDSM story. I found out blood is apparenlty not erotic in that sub-genre...but besides that I did well. It was very...educational for me to write that story; I can probably sell it for gas money at a fetish site. I'm just a few paragraphs away from having finished a fantasy short story. It's not giving me nearly as much trouble as "The Dead Reburied," which is practically getting to be a small book. Other than those bits, I keep pouring over more research for the Ultima 9: Redemption team. That's actually been wonderfully fun and nostalgic, reminding me of all sorts of mystical afternoons years ago.

I feel fulfilled, useful, deeply loved. A friend told me a few days ago how worried he had been about me back in college, when I was overworked and near the breaking point. It all just seems like a dream, that I've just woken up from it and fallen into another one. I like this one better.

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