Roady @Roady_Dragonfae@awoo.space

In the back of my mind there's always a calling out to me. The little cabin, out in the middle of the woods back in Canyon Creek, Montana. My oldest memories are spending my time frolicking in the woods and getting serious air on the homemade swing...

A part of me still harkens back to those days long past, and I hope I can relive them in a cabin of my own one day...

I often wonder if I'm subconsciously manipulating my position in time and space so I'm always the one who grabs the most calls at work. In all seriousness, the latter is that I'm putting in more effort than my coworkers, but it's fun to ponder the former. xP

I feel like I should start lowering my caloric intake and maybe go back to Paleo. Especially if I'm moving to a position with way less physical activity than my current job.

Next week I should be hearing about finally moving up to that truck driver position. The upside is less physical activity, because my biggest problem working in the yard is that I burn through calories a bit too well. It's a constant, gnawing hunger that drives me crazy. Because I eat, eat, eat, and I never feel satisfied. Bleeeh...

I look forward to the weekend, where I can disappear to the mountains and frolic around as a big gay dragonfae in his natural habitat. Something tells me I'm in dire need of it.

Update: Whew! Looks like she was just misfiring and needed a tune up.

As we continue forward in our revolution, we need an example of a new system to follow. In this case, I can't think of anything better than what's currently happening in Rojava. A form of anarcho communism that goes by the name of Democratic Confederalism. Horizontal, communal, and places emphasis entirely on female leadership.

Given its growing popularity among antifascists in the northwest, Kurdistan would most likely be Cascadia's closest ally.

Shit. SHIT! Abrupt detonation on startup and an unusual knocking from my engine. Unfortunately, my van is currently stuck at the shop. This isn't just my vehicle we're talking about. This is my goddamn house. My entire livelihood... I seriously hope it doesn't cost a fortune.

It's interesting how a wound you never thought you had reopens. One person or event triggers it, and in an effort for no more drama, I begin to analyze the deeper meaning of my reactions. I'm left sobbing as I realize that this particular wound has festered from a chain of events spanning a decade and a half... It's time to make amends.

I've been tapering off, and doing everything to keep it together... Lately I've been feeling a gradual decline in my mood and I'm not feeling quite like myself... I need to act quick on heightening my dopamine levels before I have a psychotic break.

Time to bask in the foggy wilderness of the Issaquah Alps...

https://awoo.space/media/dq5Q5Yk2WeW7x0462wg

I found Rusty in my dream last night... Or maybe Rusty found me. Either way, I feel like I'm gonna cry right now. I miss that little dog, and it won't feel right when I go back to Montana next month and he's no longer there... Love you, little guy. https://awoo.space/media/QNeWiBCdEJ7fBKowy9Y

I'm inclined to host a small gathering at a beautiful campground on the Peninsula around mid to late April. The only issue being that it's a first come first serve space.

Can't believe I slept for at least 10 hours last night. Bleh. X..x

Now that I've stopped drinking... Nicotine is next. And already I'm starting to feel loopy, loud, and a bit on the moody side... Just have to stick through it. I've had many revelations without alcohol, and I expect quitting cigarettes to have the same effect.

Finding the right strain of weed is like finding a good buddy to hang out with. Remedy is like a good friend I go to with parties. Whereas other strains tell me whether or not I'm a good fit for them.

Mushrooms are like a therapist that I go to every so often when I need more clarity on my path and what direction I need to go.

What's to be said of ayahuasca or mescaline, I still have yet to uncover. All in divine time.

My relationship with booze was akin to six years of being married to a psychopath. Gaslit, abused, left wondering if I was the crazy one. But now that I've cut the ties, I realize it wasn't me. As any psychopath would, it tries to call me back. But I continue to ignore its beckoning.