I admit it.

I have an addictive personality.

I get addicted to things (my jade pendant), tastes (teh tarik from the nice uncle next to Courts), smells (duh), and states of being (content/lazy).

As such, I decided to have a procedure to deal with my addictions when they go too far beyond endearing eccentricities (this is what Ben is for.)

So.

Wikied the 12 step program. The article listed the following stages:

I admit to everything. Even crimes that would only be committed if I end up mentally unstable due to, like a miscarriage, and then a hideous crime (one in four prob. that it'll happen to me) is committed on me. And I manage to make myself a force to be reckoned with before all that.

And the greater power is not God but the Fates. I have a weird relationship with destiny - argue with it, and threaten it with my disbelief (HAR-HAR) and knock on wood (or paper) like clockwork. Bet I'm a small joke to them. And there's yoga, now, to teach me how to make myself one with the world which is a gazillion times more powerful than me, and that just keeps giving. Check.

Now, I don't usually have sponsors or mentors. The role models in my life are kind of like Guru. Most will be a beacon of inspiration, but they won't actively teach me anything and they sure as hell hate explaining themselves. But if I go anal on what I know of them with a fine tooth comb, in the end, the knot with be caught, I will be somewhat enlightened and I will desnaggle it into reverent neatness.

I'm a compulsive helper too. Busybodying is a runs in my blood. That's why we have so many lawyers in the family (It's talking too much, loudandfast? A Bagoo. Stuff a laddoo in its mouth - if it's a girl, replace with a tomato).

Point was: I have little problem only with making amends. The people just won't talk to me. Or acknowledge my existence and error and apologetic acts!! I'm stuck, thus. Still. And forever.

Gah.

Goodnight.

Eve.

Yet another ring on the tree at11:46 PM

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