Sometimes I use my own books to answer my own questions.  Today I wanted to read the actual day, May 30th.  That would seem so easy and it's never that easy.  No, so it's Diary Roulette again . . . it's August 23rd . . . all four years, in order:
-- Why would you sit around waiting for anyone to decide your life for you?
-- In my mind I’ve made the best you I can possibly make.
-- You are . . . manifest destiny.
-- “I know that.”
Laughing, they were right, I did answer my own questions my  own self, seemingly light years ago . . . that made my day.

September 23
You said I was missing in action for nine days. I wasn’t missing in action; I was with a friend.  We discussed everything we could think, both of us taking notes, changing subjects, pulling files, rounding theories as fast as we could for somewhere near entire days and nights run on for a week and more. I was thinking in action for nine days. I haven’t had that much fun thinking with someone else in years.

April 8

A lot of people believe that what backs our “money” is gold or at least
something of some kind of intrinsic and real value.  What really values money is the collective belief that money has value; that it has to have value.  Put that one in your wallet for a second . . . I’m not kidding.

June 16

I remember exactly my first lesson in “meditation”. What they called a “meditation” session was really an exercise in guided imagery and that made no difference to me, certainly not during that summer camp.

All 120 of us campers were sitting on the floor of the recreation hall where a woman was talking to us about having the ability to meditate, to relax. I listened intently, as intently as I could. At 12, I was sitting next to the boy I knew I would love for the rest of my life. Soon, we were all lying down on the concrete while she talked us through the exercises of relaxing our bodies. Everybody relaxed. You could feel it. I could feel it.

She asked us to imagine ourselves a stick of butter on a hot summer day, she told us all to feel ourselves melt into the floor.  I actually became that stick of butter, melting as if I was in a microwave, that quick, right into the floor. My eyes flew open in abject fear right before I had
entirely melted my stick butter self into the floor and I laid there waiting for the “meditation”
to be over. My fascination with the power of my mind had begun.