Easter Egg Hunts

My lyrics are a big bunch
of Easter Egg hunts
I am the White Rabbit
but I don't wear sexy sexist bunny ears
I don't attach and wiggle a cotton ball tail
Oh, no, I FIRESTART so hot you sweat tears
Wet and Wilde wearing top hat and tails
In mi profesore glasses
smart and such
Yeah, I'm MC Aslan looking at my watch
but I am not late,
Wizard McKellan exactly where and when I mean to be
A feline MC
I'm on time, I'm on rhyme
The female Gandalf, yep, on the beat.
Yep, period, yep, period, yep, period,
Yep.
Get it yet?
I'm hiding eggs

Red tents where I hatch my schemes
And yep, I take it from all teams
But no little brood here, I am latex clean
Born a chick but not Chicken Little.
The sky is not falling, I AM
molting and molten
A fucking Phoenix Peacock
I am John, Jane and Sherlock

Blue and pink turnt to wow
Grrl to boi to "who the fuck now?"
Yeah, that's one way to get reknown
Throwing shade as I pass out
Face plant, grass stained frown

But I Get Up
Get on Up
Get Up
Get on Up
Learnt from my go-go mother
Dancing me on her hip
Putting baby down to James Brown

Yep I've lost, I've slid, I've slipped
But, I I I LIVED
I met and defeated IT, Derry's King Clown
Hashtag: Put a pounding down
Rotting lying sewer scum is where my genes come from
Cut family off, listen to the silence hum

Hunting seasons begun for a reason
Rapunzel has shaved, is clueless but clear
What to do? No fear.
Look for meaning among our roots, my dear

Diamonds on the soles of my shoes Thats one way to lose these walking blues
Learnt listening to Paul Simon's cues
I got my "physics voice" wailin
Learnt from Ellie Arroway through Carl Sagan
Got my pride jumpstarted by riotgrrls who took no shit
Ani, Tracy, Dolly,
Bitch I'm Madonna to Hedwig

Moshing with the good old boys, split my lip
Headlining now I bleed while I spit
Mic bloody, write bloody
Music, Fiction, Physics and
Poetry,
you saved me.
I Am A Rock, you can't hurt me
But now an island lonely

So put a mic on me
Im ailin, im illin,
I need Contact
I'm not fuckin chillin
I am alone to my bones
Needing some rabble rouser voices
To help me get home.

I am a boi Queen, a grrl King
Screaming my bling
Flinging priceless mings
The FIRESTARTER
So much heat I got my whole life to rise up upon
On the soles of my shoes di i i iamonds
Phoenix use the currents from the blaze to
Fly away
Like the waves you see on the black highway
Undulating and unclear?
No dear
Hot and clearing
Searing
A spicy broth
Drink it up
To heal and
Come
home

What home?
My bro and yo never had a home
If home means safety
If home means hugs
If home means body
If home means trust
We never had a home.

So sorry to be pouring the tea
But not really
How u like easter now?
That tea is hitting, pow
Better hit up Tre Melvin
See if he needs a grip or somethin
Bee Cuz, Cuz, u gotta get one,
A Grip
You are a motherless child
Your whole life- Jason Bourne
Even though all you saw was hatred and porn
You have had to teach yourself love
Your Self love
Your Self live

Love Your Self
Live Your Selves

Te quiero? No
Me quiero. Now.
Ahora, mi chica
Not later
For later you will be dead
For realz, not just in the head or in the feels.
Suicide is painless, but getting there is torture
And each day you climb steadily Closer
Throw the Gilbert ring,
the false-face bling into
Mount Doom
Don't throw you!

Singing Samwise BoiGrrl King!
You outshone The Shining
Now lets live and sequel that bitch
Get to writing!

Got a cold? Watch Victor Victoria and Write!

So, got a massive head cold, maybe the flu.  And that's sort of good because it is slowing down my self-sabotage and drug/alcohol use.  I have been on a Reign of Terror (Tara Rain) for quite a while and have now gotten myself almost to zero.

Actually I am less than zero.

Here's the new Poem I'm working on.  Called The Hospital:  The First Visit to Underland

The First Visit to Underland

The first time I went to the hospital never happened

At least according to my mother

I was thirty four.  

I was never there. 

I was never up all night the night before, 

panicking, believing

that the electricity in the walls could read my mind

and the listeners were NOT kind...

that the people on TV were dead and puppets

that the colors red and blue were nations of thought

that the red was bad, the blue was good

And I didn't crawl on the floor of my apartment, screaming

looking through the cat door at the policemans shoes

my eye through the opening like Alice

Refusing to open the human door, 

because The Man's shoe leather was cheap and scuffed,

so I COULDN'T believe their shiny badges.

I didn't know this then, but I had been trained to spot a ringer at a mile early on

Use my charming smile like a gun and Run, or 

FIGHT.  

Never give in, never.

You have a little brother, and he can't walk, can't even talk yet, yet, yet.

So you have to wait until you're bigger

Until then You are a slave

Save yourself, save your brother, SAVE

You have to be BRAVE.  You have to Wait in the Cut.  Yes, yes, yes.

Cut them with your razor teeth. CUT. Cut, cut, cut.

"We should have killed them all", said my little one with the SAND 

But I didn't know that then, in real time, not before.

that's probably when the screaming began

Alice had always been standing guard in her pinafore

Arms strapped behind her back

with a bloody knife in her handcuffed hand

Didn't know about my Underland.

I wasn't tackled to the ground raving when they finally broke in

(I had neglected to lock the human door

thought i was safe in my cheshire cat position)

I wasn't slapped in cuffs, a 250 pound man-knee in my back.

RED and BLUE lights, Red and Blue lights, Red and Blue lights.  

Strobe Swirl Strobe Swirl across my aching eyes

An affront to the early morning sunlight, 

My mind breaking dawn

As the neighbors came out to lawn watch

the insanity spawn 

The outer din mimicking my inner spin

My REVOLUTION.

I wasn't shoved and stuffed into the back of a black and white, 

Terrified

To be delivered to the doors of the place I never went

and went there for a week.

The North wing I think, the bad one.

A whole new Vista in Gainesville for me

I didn't see a man growl like a dog and lift his leg to pee

on the floor.

I didn't see another continually

Take his shirt off and dance a suggestive dance 

to the orderlies

I didn't stay up all night because I was so scared of being in such a place

Where folx had lost their human faces

And the staff were just poorly paid mercenaries

Far from helping, just fools

Nurse ratchet tools

I didn't wait until the dead of night to cry in the shower. 

All of my false bourgeoisie  

power 

washing down the drain with my tears

My parent's fame gone, thank god.

Goodbye, Engineer

So long

So long in the corner of the dirty tiled floor naked, until the water turned cold

I shook and I did not understand.  

This visit that never happened

Covered up with my mother-lawyers gab of glib

This was to be just the first hospital visit that never happened

Frozen I did not understand

This was just the first

Just the First 

Visit to Underland.

Bad night? Or bad life?

I am having yet another really feeling all alone kind of night.  stood up to people cutting on transgenders online and got called a c***. And then not one person in the thread stood up for me.  I don't know what else I I'm supposed to do. I know that whatever I'm doing is wrong.  I'm so unhappy.

O! M! G! I want to fuck you like an animal. Snape!

Snape Hermione Closer.

Amanda Palmer - Bigger On The Inside

A Treatise on the similar aspects of Dissociation and Super Glue

That title gives me a chuckle.  Anyway.  I"m high, and tried to fix a stick on light that I had "stuck on" my door a few weeks ago, but unstuck itself.  Meaning when I came home the other day, the light was on the ground, not on the door, giving nice, safe illumination of my lock.

So, being the tinkerer I am, I tried to fix it now, wihile high on DXM, which was fun, then frustrating, then angry making, and now as I reflect, it is fucking hilarious:).  My typing suckx because I have fing super glue on th4e tips of all o =f my fingers.  Thus: the dissociation   connection:

As I was trying to pull apart then stick together all these plastic parts, the glue strated drying and my fingers became part of the project.  I was ensconceed in super glue at the fingertip level.  And I was worried because I was high, that I might hurt myself.  I wish I could draw a picture lol.  I'm sitting at the table, eyes not able to focus, with little white plastic parts slathered in super glue intertwined in my fingertips, and i realize, i'm all glued together.  Fun.   So, huh.  OK, go slow, cause we don't want to rip our skin, so I go slow, and am worried that the drugs or the super glue are not leeting me feel the pain because it doesn't hurt.  And I slowly pull apart m y fingers and plastic bits.  I'm gonna go back and fix it after this, damnit!  But wow, I got all sepaerated without hurting myself.  But now, instead of acrylic nails, I have acrylic fingers.  I feel like a proto-robo-cop writing this now, my fingertips literally are clacking on the keyboard, they are so hard from the casing of superglue.  I love my dorky ass, engineer, drug stupid self :)

W O W

This was stuck in draft mode, was suppossed to be published 8/19/13



ok, so just stream of consciousness going here.  what have we done?  we have taken in a probably? dissociative boy and done dxm with him twice and have had sex with him twice and he basically lives at our house now.  o m g.  and i think i love him.  i don't even know him.  i am so full of shit wtf am i dooooooooooooooooooiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiinnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnngggggggggggggggggggggg?

oddly, i feel incredibly calm because i am still high on dxm.  so, for the past few months, obvio,usly, we've been using dxm, doing our own therapy, watching art and learning to accept ourselves, all while fairly maintaining? a life.  at least a job of 4 hours a week? hah hah hah ah ahhhahhhhahhah  and we make it to therapy every time. and we do good shit.   But we are dissociative as fuck.  Many, many fucking compartments.  Here comes the capitalizer, who's that? Fuck Offf.  Okey dkey.

anyway.  ok, so on wednesday, we went to walgreens per usual to pick up dxm, before I went in i was sitting in the car on my phone and saw two dudes, bros, ya, walk through the parking lot and I thought, huh, they are up to something.  Not bad per se , just something. No  biggie, just a notice.  Then I got off the phone went in, and went to my favorite aisle, and there are two young grungy guys with an empty cart looking both oddly happy and perplexed in front of the cough syrup aisle.  So.  So.  So. I hear them say they  aren't sure what to get, and the dark haired one looks at me and says something like "You look like you might be able to help us."

And I'm like... um.  Yes.  So Science Brain comes out and asks, "You're looking for DXM, right?"  Just like that, cool as a fucking cucumber, as if it is totally normal to be talking about my deepest darkest secret in the bright white flourescent daylight of the cough medicine aisle of walgreens.  Damn.

"YeAH!"

I point at the stuff, the pure dxm without the guenefisin and other shit.  and say something like"That's the stuff."

They look at me, still slightly nonplussed, but excited.  We are all speaking the same language here, and it's fun to fucking do it in public.  Fuck you, The Man.

I look at what they have in their hands and it's Coricidin Cold and Cough.  And I know I've read about triple C's, but I also know I read to stay away from any extra crap/meds if you can and take only dxm.  And the Coricidin has at least Guanefesin in it, and probably acetometophin and other shit you don't need and will fucking kill you and your liver, whichever dies first. I say to them, "You can't take that stuff.  That stuff has poison in it, it will kill your liver."  There are two of them, dark hair and blue eyes.  it's like a rocket or a flare goes off in blue eyes eyes.  I literally see it flash in his eyes.  I say, have you been on erowid?  blue eyes says, yeah!  dark hair assents.  but it's blue eyes who knows.  I say, they say it on there, you have to take the stuff with only dxm, no other meds, otherwise you will poison yourself with the extras.  I point again at the pure walgreens knock of cough pills- "those are the ones."  I grab two for myself, but they somehow don't' notice in their newfound knowledge excitement.  i ask, "do you live around here?" to both of them, but dark hair answers, he's the one in charge.  "oh, yeah, i live over there a few blocks."  I say, "Cool, I live the other direction, toward Wilton Manors."  code.  it's all code.  i'm feeling them out.  they are feeling me out. are we gonna play?  i guess i fold because i just walk away toward the ice cream aisle.

i fake browse for a few seconds, trying to get my spinning brain to calm down.  did that just happen?  did i just talk about dxm in public with two strangers in front of some middle aged woman browsing for an ankle brace?  wtf just happened?  i'm still reeling and dark hair comes to me in the bright white freezer aisle and asks me, hey, "we should get your number?"  and i fucking give it to them.  i give them my real goddamn number.  and dark hair calls my phone which i had left in the car, because i had planned to only be in walgreens for a second.

this is amazing.  amaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaazzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzziiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiinnnnnnnnnnngggggggggggggg.  i never open up to people.  never.  especially not two drugged out boys looking to get fucked up at the local walgreens.  wearing dirty t shirts and cargo pants.  with beautiful blue eyes.  what the fuck was i thinking?  i stayed in numb mode, because i was pretty sure if i started feeling i would want to punch myself in the face.  so i down the dxm and do a mild trip, and TEXT THEM TWICE while high appropriately, just to check in.  I was gonna see if they were going to ask me to join, but i wasn't sure, and if they did i didn't know what i would say, but thankfully they didn't.  we just swapped mg amounts and went on our merry way. 

There is a problem

Okay, a lot of stuff to write on here.  I am high on dxm and benadryl, and I have double thought myself into quite a knot.  Threr is a problem with Gina and Jeanette.  and me.  and that may be one of the reasons I've been so wonky lateley.  A boundary violation while we were at IOP Gina was seeing Jeanette privately.  And no one ever talked about it.  it was a secret.  and that is a problem.  and i think i am going to have to call gina out on it. 

but, i am high, so we will let it marinateed a little longer ( ala Kissing Jessica Stein).   But I think this may have been one of the slivers of glass in my foot for a lng time. 

I also want to not the similarities in outward affect and behavior of socio/psychopaths and someon with DID.  Both are chamelions, but one is a chamelion because they are scared and one is doing it on purpose.  Or can it be both?  Basiclly, the question is , whci was my mother? 

dr bill was a faker.  he didnt have to be, but thats what he chose to do.  please dont let Gina be a faker.  Well, even if she is, I learned a lot forom her.  But I see Narcissim creeping up with the twitter feed shit.  Not good.  Not Good.  Fabebook and titter are about "pay attention to me!" sometimes.  I know it cn also be about getting the wsorkd out and stuff., but seems narcissistic to be posting shit that is just feel good platitudes.  You can get that anywheree, but you are drawing attentiuon to yourself.  look at me.  not good. not good at all.   also, shes banding us together as "butterflies" and thats not good either.  no secret societies.  no.  alumni, yes, society no.  Whew, that felt good to get off my chest.  Now, how do I go about fixing this.  ????????  I meditatie on it all this weekend.  And you tell Jeanette that you love rher, but you have to work some stuff out and it is nothing personal, but you need more time.  And you are sad about India Arie, cause you would like to go, but you cant.  And we will revist this decision whe we are sober.  But wejust had to get this down. 

Buddy Movie

Its like a buddy road trip movie, except that the buddy is me and we only travel in our head.  bur otherwise its excellent!!!!!!  So basically that mean to viewer on the outsidfe::   Crazy heavy freckled grirl laughing and taking to herself as she lays in a hammock in the bright orange sunlight.  And alsoo crazy freckled gril doing stuff with herse3fl like a schzo, but I am not schizo I am dissociative. :)

Happy

I am completely and utterly dissocaied now.  and I dont care, wich is coool.  so I am letting this go out as it is.   because this is the truth.   the truth is messy and gross and incorect grammaticallly.   I am watching Girls and I am very happy about the seond season.   They are telling the truth about class and fame and whoring and the lines that blur between them.  I love it. love it. love it.  i am so fcking out of it right now that ovviouadsly i cant type for shit.  but i am safe.  i am in my pretty apt with green grass and sunlight and a hammock.   Safe.  And we paid the rent and made sure there was enough money in the account for the check to clear even though it wont cleear for like a week and a half.  He always takes forever to cash the check.  but that is cool, becuasue the point is when you write the check, you have the money. DONE. via GABRIEL.

Also we own the internet at this place now.  Whooot!!!!!!!!!! We fucking rock!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  We did the thing Nancy does on Weeds.  We did what Jessa does on Girls.  We just took what was ours and were fari about it and 1YATTYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY.  And fuck them if they try to fuck with us. Chesire Grin

some new rules?

ok, so we are trying to figure out how to dissociate when we are not high.  So we've heard that we have to have an hour of alone naked time in the house to run and scream around  per day.  Ok.   Will do, although there was a quyeasy feeling in my stomach just then , but I think its ok.  be in the sunlight more!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

okeydokey.  sunlight more.  alone.  we need alone sunlight time.  Is the hammock safe enough? No, because of the fucking neighbors.  fich.  well we'll work on that.  laying in the grass.  not the hammock.   ok

gabriel is gay. he likes boys.  we just figured that out.  victoria likes girls. problem.   not a huge problem, but a funny one.  i say.  who is i?

snyder park was a safe place. we need to go there i guess. no place else workds.  ok.  done..once a day? thats a lot.  Yeah, vut what the fuck else are we doing? serisously?  Yeah, I gueass you're right.

tired, movies.  yessssssssssssssssssssssssss.

So This Is Why We Dissociate

So I am zoned to the universe on DXM in a beautiful angry orange sunlight place.  And I'm Like lets do this. This is wh we sissocdiate.  we let it go . or soething . idosn know ifi can type fast enough to get this all down.  I am in the moment of NO.  NO orange beautiful blasting out.   i want it to be  world where there3 is no fuckin g need for NO, but that is not the world we live in.  Orange is the New Black F*cksgiving  That is it.  They captured it perfectly.  its amazimg.  piper says you CANT HAVE ME, YOU COULD NEVER HAVE ME. or something like that.  she screams it out in a total seemingly dissociative state and then confirms it by having sex with Vause when she gets out of SHU.  And then the audience gets all excited about a  love triangle, lesbian sex, blah , blah.  BUT THAT IS NOT THE FUCKING POINT

THE POINT IS, THAT YOU DON'T OWN ME.  YOU WILL NEVER OWN ME, AND YOU WILL NEVER WIN.  I AM ME.  I LOVE ME.  I CLAIM ME.  I CLAIM ME AND ALL ME NEEDS TO BE HAPPY., not too much stuff.  But enough to be FUCKING HAPPY.  So BASICALLLY, FUCK OFF, WORLD,  I AM GOING TO BE A GREEN VEGETARIAN POET WITH A DRUM AND A GUITAR AND A TRUCKLOAD OF MATH AND  BASIC CHEMISTRY KNOWLEDGE AND i AM GOING TO LIVE HOW I WANT TO LIVE.  WITH BEAUTIFUL PEOPLE GETTING OVER THEIR PAIN BY PAINTING AND DANCING AND SINGING AND RUNNING...... and yoga :)  and I want to live a healthy life creating stuff? (dont know what yet) helping people figure systems out, because I am incredibly good at that.  I can figure a system like nobody's business.  SO.  LET'S GET FIGURING!!!!

i love you jeanette.

It's my official coming out party, damnit.

OK, so another fun filled weekend of DXM and drug induced dissociation.  And I have officially had enough.  I freaked at 11pm last night and called both therapists and left messages and was completely out of control.  Which is fine, if I weren't fucking HIGH.  Actually its fine even if I was high, but it's not what I want to be doing.  Summer did a great job of talking me through it last night though.  She also called me on the getting high.  I have to get the info when I am sober or it is tainted.  I have to internally communicate everyday and accept that I have D.I.D.  I have DID.  I have it.  I do.  It's time to finally fucking accept this.  It's over.  It's beginnning.  I have it. I have it. We have it.  We have it. We have it. :)

So who's here?  Gabriel, of course.  He's me most of the time.  Him and Victoria.  And Allison Lee.  And the little one with her cap of black hair.  And a little boy.  And a baby.  Gabriel and Victoria are groups.  Groups of parts?  Still working it out.  Allison Lee is part of Victoria.  I think.  She's the smiler.  Real smile.  Victoria is the Chesire grin.  But she does it for everyone.  We were doing the chesire grin at the beginning of therapy today.  We were so embarrassed about calling Ryan fucking high.  But he was cool with it.  I love him.  He is so good at his job.  Yay! I am going to miss him. 

Man, I got caught.

I am forcing myself to sit and write this.  This is like when J says she has to do things bit by bit, dragging herself inch by inch to do them.  This is that.  I don't want to write about this, mostly because I am not use to it, it is stretching, it is uncomfortable.  But it has to be done.  Now is the time.  It is time to write about stuff, when I am not fucked up.

I got caught on the phone last night with a new butterfly friend named E.  We were talking, doing the therapy story swap when she asked if I was high.  I immediately snapped as back to reality as I could, and said "there is absolutely nothing wrong with me."  So I lied.  Panic, then immediate shut down about that topic set in.  She let it go, so I guess she believed me, or she didn't and she just allowed me to lie.  But that is not OK.  She is also a trauma survivor and I cannot lie to her about reality.  It is absolutely unethical.  So I am going to tell her the truth today when we meet for the first time for dinner.  Yay, great.  I am a fucking asshole.

I've been mulling this over in my head every spare moment since it happened, and that's why I'm writing, because I need to process this BEFORE I talk to E, not WITH E.  I don't know her that well yet, and it would be innapropriate and unfair, and immediately fuck up our new friendship boundaries, and I don't want to do that.  So maybe I'm not the right friend for her right now.  And if she decides that, that would be fine, I have to be fine with it.  It does not mean I am a bad person, but just not healthy enough for her.  And I don't want to be perpetrating my crap on her.  It is not fair to her.

I'm also almost gleeful that somebody FINALLY fucking caught me.  I didn't know this, but I was waiting to be caught.  And this is where this stuff gets personal and vulnerable.  I think I am using DXM to test dissociation vs reality?  Like, if I can handle everything on DXM, then I can handle anything?  Or maybe, if I can handle life while on DXM, I can allow myself to dissociate in real life (in safe supportive setting)?  That's it.  I am so fucking afraid of appearing "crazy" or "out of control" or "not rational" that I have a major steel fucking door on anything that seemed irrational, which included allowing voices in my head telepathically telling me something.  So I shut that shit DOWN.  And I learned to concentrate.  CONCENTRATE. To the point of a laser beam.  So nothing could distract me.  And for the most part on the surface at least, nothing ever did distract me.  It worked.  Welcome physicist Civil Engineer.

But now through 3.5 fucking years of INTENSE fucking therapy with many different people, but mainly L, I have learned it is safe to let go.  If you learn when it's safe, when it's the right time.  Because it isn't always the right time.  But my problem was more that I NEVER let go, rather than letting go in the wrong places, which seems to be what is the problem for most other butterflies I've met.

And with DXM it is so easy to get to that open, creative sweet spot.  Without it I have to....  what .... I guess I have to concentrate, hah.  I have to let go.  I have to allow myself to be silly and make intuitive leaps that may not seem normal or rational.  And it is not being crazy.  It is being creatively co-consciously altered.  It is being a healthy butterfly.  Without drugs, and without being crazy.  It is NOT crazy.  People may look at me weird, but that's because they don't understand.  And I think that has been what I've been doing in therapy, learning exactly what dissociation is and isn't, completely and thoroughly, enough so that I could teach it to someone else.  And that someone else I was teaching was me. 



Wow.  OKay, so back to E. What is the gameplan?  What is enough and appropriate to tell her and what is a boundary violation to a new friendship?  OK. 1. Tell her she was right about me being high.  Validate reality.  2. Apologize that you lied to her, because you understand that invalidating a trauma survivors reality is extremely wrong.  3. Tell her you are working on it, and promise never to talk to her high again without telling her.  4. Tell her you are working on the problem, that you take it seriously, but it is not completely under control yet.  5. So, with this info if she thinks its not safe to be around me, I perfectly understand.  I am see-sawing trying to figure healthy out, and I'm going to even out eventually, I'm just not totally there yet.

If she wants to know what I think about it:
I think I can be a good friend to her.  I can watch my boundaries.  I will utmostly respect her path to getting better.  But I honestly don't know.  That's the truth, I don't know what's right.

What I don't need to tell her about:  why I do DXM.  My personal science experiment with DXM.  No talking about the creative sweet spot with her.  No talking about dissociation too much with her.  I can later, but not today.  We don't have enough intimacy yet.  We ARE NOT IN THERAPY together.  There is a difference, although right now I am having a hard time figuring out what that difference is.  She does not need to know every thought that is in your head.  You are not lying if you are not telling her every thought in your head.  That is not deceit.  That is technique.  Your insightlfulness can hurt people, including yourself, if wielded at the wrong time, just as if you were carrying around a sword, an epee.  Very useful tool, but you can't just slash it around like you've been doing.  Which is Ok, you are learning.   But really, you seem to have a talent that others either don't have or don't admit to having, and just like if you were an X-men, you have to learn to wield your power correctly.  Really, it is just like the laser beam eye guy.  Except you have to build your own glasses to control the beam yourself.  And you are.  Yay.  Cool, in this metaphor, L is Dr. X.  I'll have to tell her. :)

and stealing. that has to be addressed.

maybe not immediately, but it's a topic that needs work.:) do it.