So I came home from work feeling under the influence of my disease, a counter attempted with Top Care's answer to Tums, and began my usual routine. There was no mail for me. Thank goodness as usually when there is its usually a bill. Tha answering machine was also bereft of messages. The cats were eager to be fed and it was late enough I met their demands. E-mail was even decidedly brief. I'm sure this log entry must be boring the tears out of any choosing to read it, and as I am sleepy and seeking a means to fight the disease I will rest and enjoy my Cajun sounds emanating from Musicmatch Jukebox. Good day to all.

Tonight's entry must be unfortunately brief as I have work early in the morning. I will make an attempt to link other friends blogs to my own this evening if I can achieve it. My other computer experience this evening has been trialing the Musicmatch MX program that I might give them feedback. The trial format has given me opportune to explore some dream pop groups. I already have Mazzy Star, Belly, and Dead Can Dance in my collection. I'm definitely turned on by the Cocteau Twins now as well. Here's to the further explorations of music!

Being the first entry of Bert Schmid to his blogspot: Fantastory. As what entries I have seen of other individuals (okay, an individual) were of a journal nature, and this has become something of a social venue my entries will most likely be of a similar nature. However recognizing my penchant for stream of consciousness writing don't be surprized if my writings become tangential. That being said, perhaps an introduction into who I am would be in order. How to describe myself without using labels can be somewhat difficult, but I won't let that stop me from making the attempt. I inhabit the bedroom over the garage of a two-story Colonial in the pretentious village of Midlothian, Virginia. While not exactly a rich suburban sprawl, residents do tend to be comfortably well off. My personal finances keep my head just above water. This is neither here nor there. Money doesn't make the man. If you had to compare my appearance to various celebrities or characters: Ed Norton, Ichabod Crane, Maynard Crebbs, and Shaggy are most frequently mentioned. To describe myself as tall, lanky, and mildly handsome is probably as accurate a representation as any. I am possessed of brown, callicked hair, an olive complexion to my Caucasian skin, with eyes that I too frequently enjoy relating as being the color of stone flecked with moss. My self-confidence is a fluctuating creature, but overall has grown steadily with age. I find that one's belief in oneslf is a sign of the strength of his/her character. I try not to think of myself as one possessed of a disease (and all its corrolating symptoms), but as one challenged both physically and mentally to a given set of problems How I cope with those problems is up to me. Therein lies the core self. That aspect of my psychosis that interacts with my environment. A mind possessed of its own world view. One flavored by atheism with an agnostic residue. Cynical of the world, yet still able to put forth a certain degree of trust, and a taking for granted that reality as I perceive will remain consistent. And while I do not believe in a deity as a suprme being, the belief that others ossess gives that deity an existence within reality. It shapes their worldview, and how they interact with it. Mind over matter.
But enough of myself-absorbed prattling for one evening. I seek more light-hearted entertainments to candy-feed my mind tonight. May this and future readiings of my material amuse you in their way. Until then- good night.