I'm Holly Go-Lightly. I fly by the seat of my pants. Live in the moment. Drawn equally by chance and curiosity as by my ideals and my idea of destiny.

I'm bad with money. I hate money, so as soon as I get it, I go out of my way to get rid of it. Especially via hot dates and luxury items that are well beyond my means. It's very exciting and dramatic.

At night, I can hear people screaming at each other in their houses. Why do people scream at each other? Do they feel like no one is listening?

There are a lot of bugs that live in my back yard. They don't scream, they chirp or sing. Recently, I decided to let go of my feelings of animosity/ambivalence that I've harboured toward the roses in the backyard. I don't know why I don't like roses. It's not just the roses, it's every plant that was here when I came, that isn't mine and I wouldn't have chosen. So, I let go and decided to water them. One plant in particular hasn't been doing well. It's a miniature palm of sorts, and I gave it a good drenching, it seemed like it needed it. I went down the row, giving up my peace offering to the jasmine, mint, roses,and many unknown etcetera's. When I came back to the palm, however, I noticed some activity.

Unknowingly, I had caused a state of disaster for the ant tribe that had made it's city in the heart of this palm, and every able-bodied member was desperately trying to save the eggs from the flood. Thousands upon thousands of frantically scrambling insects all working together to help save the next generation. It was truly awe-inspiring, in spite of the heavy guilt that colored my unabashed observation.

I like watching ants. Especially ant wars. I've only seen those on the sidewalks in Vermont. First, you notice something dark up ahead. Then, you see that it's moving. Finally, you realize that it's a writhing pile of ants. And upon closer inspection, (you're down on your knees with your face less than a foot away from the activity at this point), you see that every ant is paired with another but the color or size of it's partner is slightly different, and you see that all the ones that look one way are coming out of one hole, while the others are from the hole on the other side of the crack. And they are fighting to the death, the martyrs carried back down the holes for funeral or food. Probably both.

Funny, the idea of insects killing each other doesn't bother me, but the idea of me killing insects fills me full of sorrow. And war, reading about old wars doesn't usually bother me as much as reading about current ones. Old wars seem more civilised. Like an ant war. Hand to hand, face to face combat. Puts a tangible price on what you're fighting for.

I need to find a good way of thinking about money. A new way. I think I'll look for books. At the library.