(no subject)

So. Um. I skirted insanity. For the first time during an experience such as that of the last two weeks, I skimmed along the edge of insanity without entering it. I reached the stage of being completely wrapped up in a personal fantasy, so that the boundary between internal and external activity (imagination and action, to put it another way) disappeared; however, I was able (with significant help) to turn aside before any of my fantasies were fixated into delusions. I did not manage to avoid hospitalization, once again by police officers -- institutions, of course, recognize irrationality far before individuals do. However, a renewed struggle with psychiatry and a bill of some two thousand dollars are both prices that I can currently pay, thanks to experience and student loans. And frankly, they are small prices for what I've accomplished.

This time I came back with four realizations, which is at least double the most I've managed before. The three of lesser importance can be stated clearly without any delay: first, I realized the harm that I was doing my intellectual and emotional life by my secretiveness; second, I realized that I have noone here at UT Austin with whom I can converse about physics, so I departed for Dallas in order to find my mentor; third, I stopped believing in geniuses.

More importantly than all three of those realizations: I found my voice for the last time. I discovered the final resonance which would give me a full voice. I found the voice of a fisher. Fans of the obvious may now applaud.

It turns out that the voice of a fisher has two volumes. One volume is soft. The other is terrifying.