change is scary.

Is the conscious real? Is the unconscious real? Can we take responsibility for the parts of us outside of us?

My kitchen is outside of me, but taking care of my kitchen is taking care of myself.

My roommate is outside of me, but how I perceive them is capable of being shifted. I need to choose to feel the places in which their tides push on my geometry. How can I let that geometry flow better, to let the ebbs and flows erode what's already there and expose something that thrives?

The intertidal zone is how continents come to be populated over time. I can foster their development. I can watch how extinction events and catastrophes hinder their growth - but "hinder" is a misnomer, isn't it?

Ecosystems can take many forms when stagnation is prohibited. Are ebbs of depression and flows of great joy a driver of nonlinear growth? does "growth is not linear" mean that we need to see lulls in our mind's activity as incubating for the next explosion? is regression necessary for growth?

We can't always be growing, and there's a limit to how much a system can grow. So it needs to see itself many times in many ways.

I'm going to let myself shift into someone else - the time of the werewolf has faded with the dawnward moonlight. The dual to the adored and celebrated sexuality of the flower needs to reveal its demonic backside. She needs to revel in her depravity now. Her revilation can become revelation alongside delicate, naturalized floral perfumes.

This is my fursona, Cayman Went. Most people know me as a crow, as seen in the first picture. I'm a crow, my beak shined and my feathers preened. I am a cat, with pierced ears and a leather jacket, a rabble-rouser out for trouble. I'm a kobold, a feisty shortstack who excels at video games and loves some good couch time with his friends.

This is Cay, not just one, but many. As parallel with myself, I am also not just one.

Is Cay a crow, a cat, a kobold? The answer is yes. Is Kris, the one behind the sona, a diligent worker, a party animal, a punk, a gamer? Yes.

I want Cay to represent me, and there's no one facet, one species that can really encompass it. Cay is a crow, a cat, a kobold, or whatever else he needs to be, and so am I. Kris is not Cay, but Cay is part of Kris deeply, in a way that can't be defined.

I'm a crow, I'm a cat, I'm a kobold. I'm Cay, and I'm Kris. It's good to meet you.

Slowly realizing as I take a hot shower that all these Cayforms and characters might just be species I’d want to be…?

It is, as of writing, 1:23 AM on March 28th, 2023 I am now officially, completely, out of the recovery period from the surgery I underwent on February 14th of this year. It's honestly incredibly surreal in a way that feels impossible to put into words that I went from being unable to do anything on my own. Getting out of bed, walking, going up and down the stairs, using the bathroom, showering...all things I needed someone else to do. It wasn't fun, needing help to do things we expect children to do on their own, I was often left crying incredibly hard; it felt impossible to see a light at the end of the tunnel

You never realize just how much you use, and need, your neck for literally everything you do in your day to day until you can't move it anymore. I felt incredible frail, like the slightest bit of whiplash was just going to kill me. A lot of time spent in bed, a lot of time spent binging old episodes of Family Guy because there wasn't much else I could do

I definitely overpacked for my stay at the hospital. Brought my mood journal, my tablet loaded up with movies, my sketchbook, my Nintendo Switch (Persona 5 Royal whoooo) and a graphic novel of The Dark Knight Returns. None of which I actually got to use in there, being knocked out for roughly 80% of the time

To be honest, I don't even really remember that week at all. The anxiety, for sure. But beyond that, flashes, mostly. A lot of sensory overload, but I was too hopped up on the painkillers to really process anything, or form words, or do anything about it. I remember going in that day, signing the release forms, changing into the hospital gown, being too paralyzed with anxiety and fear to move or speak, being comforted by my mom, and then....next thing I know, waking up in recovery

But that's where I'm at now, where I've been and what's been going on