0355: I put on my Garmin and Apple devices the other day, and they both chimed, surprised at my progress after a long break. I picked every flowering plant from my place to the southeast bend, colorful and varied, and placed them by a statue of Mary in a park near a memorial wreath. It seemed to be a nameless memorial. I saw a doe crossing the street, waiting for her family, and I counted five or six more prancing by. That day, I ran for a service member named Q, recently found unresponsive in a gym. I didn't inquire further and ran 17 miles for the letters in his name. Awake now, my bronchitis symptoms have cleared. I receive texts and calls in different languages, which I translate to biblical passages. I log these messages, thinking they might be from Marina's friends, though there's no hidden meaning. The patterns match sequences of repeated numbers. I prefer normal contact, avoiding hidden meanings unless they help me solve something. My days of falling into mental traps are over; I can't survive another. I remapped my mind once, but another illness might leave me unable to heal. The illness this year unraveled the repair sequence built over 7 or 8 years with family and friends. Despite setbacks, being open about the effects helped. I persisted until my treatment was accepted, like a stubborn button working on the third try.
0454: I can't remember my daughter's face. In 2020, we did a portrait assignment together for her class. I dreamt of it this morning, recalling only that it was a blindfolded exercise. When I moved, many of my household goods got lost at sea. A crate of salvaged items arrived dilapidated and collapsed. Only the furniture from a mentor in California survived, except for two bar stools I gave to a neighbor. I lost irreplaceable books, writings, photos, and "many small things," as a suite mate once called them. He invited me to his wedding in 2014, the weekend I got sick. Years later, he apologized for not visiting me in the hospital but met me at an Irish pub in Virginia in 2018. I attended a symposium a month later, honored by the presence of my former Commander. My memories flow with great detail, but I’m trying to prioritize them to avoid being overwhelmed. For months, I resisted accepting my autism diagnosis, but reviewing my recovery plan and progress, it made sense. I ingested information rapidly, turning it into action at the expense of social skills, often interacting with my kid. My purpose was to fulfill the needs of others, driven by thoughts or images of them, linking to actions that fulfilled a purpose. My dreams now reveal that my drive and purpose come from noticing others, the space and time between all things, and the moments between people.
0310: If you can't reach me, it's likely due to collisions on my network. My colleagues are tracking where the data goes, so something might be up. If you haven't already, avoid connecting directly to the "dirty net" and use something to regulate your traffic. I've set up a basic DNS server, a VPN server, and some tunneling with variable algorithms, and recently started learning about sensors again. At the very least, check your security settings so that anything difficult or annoying for you to access is equally challenging for your adversaries. After returning from the hospital, I still navigate the tech world effortlessly, though the full grasp of it eludes me. Ignore my previous post about an undisclosed project. Enjoy your weekend if you don't hear from me, and I'll be exploring something new.
0127: My name has many meanings, but the one that sticks is "a gift," suggesting thoughtfulness. Only one seed out of many gifted last year thrived in my care, a sunflower symbolizing appreciation. I contemplated planting it outside, but constant observation deterred me. My unique energy, even perceived as interference, resonates widely. My daughter sought to understand this frequency, seeing it as a source of connection and vitality. This energy touched all around me, from plants to creatures, even family. We delved into lineage, tracing uniqueness through generations. Despite trials, every step led here, grateful for the journey and those in it. If I've been quiet, know you're not forgotten; my gift is felt in unseen but present ways, connecting all that matters.
