yeah... I actually wrote out (by hand, they wouldn't let me have a computer) like ten pages in a notebook, "how to improvise"... all kinds of tricks and ways to figure things out... things to listen to and even scales and chords on hand-drawn manuscript staves...

I was going to give it to him when I left, but I never did.

Why does it even matter? I guess because I really needed some help. Also, I know that people like him can often have *incredible* control over the destiny of people like me... Especially if we could be labeled as a threat. Civil Commitment laws... like the Patriot Act for some of us.

Symbolically, he was a last straw. I used to think that people were put into our lives in certain places and times by some divine providence. Now I'm not so sure. I think me struggling with this is an effort to *make* it a meaningful experience and also mourn the fact that I was so let down. In a more eastern sense, it was what it was. He is who he is. There is no point in trying to change it or continue thinking about it.

You are definitely right. In more simple terms I could just say who the heck am I that this merits so many words and so many hard feelings.

It is really, really hard... Yes indeed. Part of me senses growth taking place, just because I've learned these growth spurts are usually filled with unresolved conflicts like this. Perhaps the new me and the old me are still fighting over what to do with this.