It occured to me after a three days of obsessively searching on OKCupid and business endeavors. [Not to mention I was crying incessantly after reading a a book called Healing Trauma by Peter Levine.] corresponded with some very interesting people. I don't regret wasting my own time. Time is only wasted when on a scheduled path. My path is wavering. I'm completely disjointed, as I my trauma has scattered my consciousness.I really think I should keep my low paying job and just write obsessively. I've taken so much from the mistakes of the past two days. That's the key to life for me right now. Don't regret but embrace the mstakes. Be friends with them. It's the What about Bob theme, so to speak.I need to get past the enthusiasm phase of my writing.. I wrote a screenplay I didn't finish [got a 100 pages done, but didn't edit or put it together]. I wrote a dozen or so complicated raps [some of them while working at the factory]. I would think of them while grinding steel poles or walking down the road. I most recently have written poetry, which expresses my views on self and reality more intimately. I needed to burn myself out at OKCupid to realize a few things. The unconscious mind is funny that way. I am very dedicated to listening to that voice. "I thank Jesus" every day that I found Lyndy and this wonderful journal. 60% of what I say here has been complete moosh, but that's all right.I'm like a kid in both spirit and form most of the time. I have my little flashes of brilliance, but I haven't been assiduous enough to put it all together.Basically, I came here to write and finalize my thought, which is this--if all I have is my crap job and my passion (writing), that's OK for now. I still wanna be rich, but I gotta follow my heart along the way. Without releasing this trauma that's trapped in my body, I can't find the energy to allow that for myself..but that's the residual effect of my first day of trauma healing exercises.Wow, my other half is banging on the door, demanding that I engage in irrational conversation. It feels a little like being trapped in prison. It's horrible feeling, really. I can't really handle it. This is bad. She's so used to dumping her emotions on me, that she is freaking out, now that I won't comply.All right, I answered the door and took a deep breath.. I handled it without reacting emotionally. It's always good to supress the emotions in these situations..otherwise the rice and lentils will not digest properly.That's one of the long term symptoms of trauma--poor digestion. Mostly I'm just working on how to connect with the world. My interactions are deep yet brief. I'm working on setting physical boundaries while I am healing. I feel much more calm and at ease when I do this.I guess that's why I am about to write a minimalist film. I wish I never gave my Bresson Notes away. I guess I'll have to order them again by mail after I move...Well, I just figured I'd organize a few thoughts/concepts slightly, before I moved onto serious writing..Here's a poem I'm working on..The title is from a fortune cookie in a friend's collage..

"The rubber hands are moving in the right direction"
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Introspective breakthrough perceived as if an Amelie
Gasping and puffing away from open field ears marked
Taking exception straight select few of tagged girth
Ancient drum rhythm pounding universal pavement fear
Cells and pockets threaten trapping natural response
Great beast flowing the everpresent graceful machine
Welcoming the ground repeating a sluggish frame rate
Abdominal blowing and swelling taking offense to air