Collared!

I recently saw someone new suggest their doubts about blogging. Personally I find writing a diary a great therapeutic device.. great for putting some sense into the soup of my thoughts... so that they don't just keep swirling around and around so much (at times).
So then on top of that to blog your diary - even snippets - seems such an adventurous thing to do. I guess I think of it as lighting the blue touchpaper... one of those fireworks might go boom.
But then again I think there's a 99.99999% chance of nothing appearing to happen... tho I think some people can benefit from your blogging without you even realising.

If a child grows up in an environment of criticism, the child will learn to criticize.
If a child grows up in an environment of hate, the child will learn to fight.
If a child grows up in an environment of shame, the child will learn to feel guilty
If a child grows up in a praising environment, the child will learn to appreciate.
If a child grows up in an encouraging environment, the child will learn to be confident.
If a child grows up in an environment of understanding, the child will learn to be patient.
If a child grows up in a just environment, the child will learn to be fair.
If a child grows up in a secure environment, the child will learn to trust.
If a child grows up in an approving environment, the child will develop self-esteem.
If a child grows up in an environment of acceptance and friendship, the child will learn to find love in people.

Does it mean you're bound to be immature all your life? Or does it mean the opposite? That you're one of the first to get up and go?

What is the point of looking back anyway? People say history is important, but do they just mean the history of a people or a society? What is the value of an individual's history?

Is it an irresistible magnet,because it's some kind of source, or just pointless introspection?

Well I guess I let my da-da-da down tonight. I cannot blame the drug(2). I'm left wondering what they might think but mainly I don't give poop because I know it doesn't matter. I'm in charge of the whole world/nothing. If anybody recognises this mood, do give me a call.

Anyhow my friends and I were slipping into the new morning quite carefree; acquaintances were moving towards friendships, lusts were meeting lusts; the rooms were filled with many other party heads.

The music moved us, and moved us to have arguments for teasing. And I navigated 4 girlicious women and a friend with edge through the glassy Manchester streets. Towards what was my final destination of the night. Four minutes into the club and then it struck.