I just learned that the Blogger software is not putting in paragraph breaks. I don't use paragraphs for style, but to convey a very real break in thought, so it is an important part of my writing. I know that I have a very stripped down blog, but that is because when I began writing, I was too ill to do much of anything except type words; then later, I often found myself under pressure to write out my thoughts immediately. Today, I feel well enough to care about my writing presentation, so I hope I fixed the paragraph settings situation.
This is going to be a short and unimportant post, so I will just use it to see if I fixed my problem. I was able to do more cleaning today (two days in a row!), and I finally put away all my summer clothes in the basement, while I finally hung up winter sweatshirts in the closet.
I found that a lot of long sleeved shirts and sweat shirts, no longer fit me. They are too tight across the bust. This includes a couple of sweatshirts of my sister that I keep for sentimental reasons. My sister was heavier than me, and had a double D, oversized bosom. Why are my sister's old sweatshirts unable to fit me, since I have nowhere near her bust size--even with these fucking Nazi cow boobs hanging on me?
The answer is the reason that I have been having such difficulty breathing. My sister had huge breasts, but she had a feminine, naturally arched back. Naturally, I have a male's arched back, and the more masculine the arch, the better, more natural, and energetic I feel. As a matter of fact, the first thing I instinctively do upon awakening is push my pelvis upward and try to flatten the upper back, which gives me a brief jolt of natural energy.
For the dog Sirians are insistent upon forcing an unnatural feminine body upon me, no matter how miserable I feel. So they have pushed my spine into my upper thoracic cavity, which not only makes me asthmatic, but causes actual respiratory distress, with even mild physical exertion, or the viral download. But that is how stupidass Nazis think--who cares if I feel like shit or can breathe or not--the question is do the fucking bastards get their rocks off looking at my bustline?
In Hebrew, the word for Holy Spirit is "ruah", breath. In the first chapter, Almighty Creator God, "breathes" upon the chaotic, formless waters to activate truel life. That insight underlies why breathing is so important in the spiritual life--in all traditions. Now, I am completely unable to draw a full breath or fully oxygenate my body. You can imagine what that does for my spiritual life. But I got these motherfucking piece of shit knockers that I hate with every half breath I draw. FUCK YOU PIGS, FOR WHAT YOU HAVE DONE TO ME!!! I AM NOT A WOMAN. I AM A MAN!!!