Sping has sprung, and my journal with it, in a burst of purple blossomy goodness like Jacaranda. One of the few things I miss about LA, walking down the streets covered in the little, tiny, purple flowers.

(Interlude from the Bulletproof Monk commercial: "This is America, we don't have enlightenment here. Got it?")

Thinking back on the last couple years of my life has been pretty strange. I keep having these little moments of discovery, and then end up shoving them aside for the people/places/things I am doing at the time instead. I haven't really known who I was for a long time.

Recently, as pieces have been falling into line, I have been getting a better idea. I have started to think about how many people I know who are just out for themselves, and when I think about it I am not sure whether that hurts or inspires me.

More later, I guess.

I love you all, even those I don't.