So, for the past several months, I've noticed that I'm getting A LOT of mysterious, unidentified site traffic from Sunnyvale, California and from Issy, Ile de France. So, if you read this out there in California or in Ile de France, please feel free to drop me a line in my "Don't be Bashful" comments section at the end of this post, or, if you're feeling realy frisky, send me an e-mail from my "contact" tab up above. I'd love for you to sate my curiosity about what you find so interesting here in Natabaloo land!!!!

And now for something completely different. I had a very strange event occur while I was crocheting the other day (yes, I crochet now). First of all, I should probably mention that I was as sober as church when this happened. I was watching my hands as I stitched, and all of a sudden I was overwhelmed by what I can only describe as an 'out of body' experience. It felt as if my hands did not belong to me, as if I was remotely viewing them work like mad from somewhere else. Even though I could still feel the sensation of the yarn and hook between my fingers, I felt as if the sum content of my consciousness had condensed into my head and directly behind my eye balls. Still, this explanation does not fully cover the breadth and the intensity of the event. Repetitive tasks often give me a sense of disconnectedness from the mechanical actions of a given body part and this is not extraordinary. But this was completely different and much, much more. This felt like a complete anihilation of the physical self, as if some schizophrenic part of my psyche lost total control of my motor skills for a moment. It probably only lasted for a minute, but it felt like thirty. In that moment, my own hands were only as related to me as the wheels on a car when I'm the driver, as if my body were slipping into death and my soul was being teased out of it, the way I imagine it would feel to get 'zombified'. In fact, I thought I might be dying for a split second, and I had to stop what I was doing to refocus and gain control of myself. It felt like some kind of spiritual transendance and it was very terrifying, then on reflection quite delightful. In retrospect, I felt regret that I hadn't tried to ride it longer, that I willed myself to pull out of it. I took up my crochet hook again in the hopes that I could recapture it, but I suspect such an occurance is a lot like finding the door to Narnia: you have no control over when and where it may happen again...