The name of Jeff gives you a very inquisitive, restless, seeking nature. You feel impelled by intense desires that you cannot comprehend or satisfy. You have had the desire to accomplish something outstanding and to do something very worthwhile for humanity, especially early in your life. This name gives you a versatile, clever, analytical mind, but unfortunately you cannot direct your interest toward an undertaking for long, as you do not have the patience and practicality for systematic hard work and attention to detail. You resent obstacles, delays, and restrictions. This name gives you ambition, high ideals, and much creative ability, but the intense dynamic nature is too often spent in feelings and in moods, rather than in constructive action. You desire to be your own boss, yet you find it difficult to stabilize your life and to settle down and be accumulative. Your feelings swing from optimism to pessimism. You can be very cynical and caustic, and you subject those around you to outbursts of temper and moods of self-pity. Your home-life particularly would suffer. This name has given you an appreciation for refinement, and the better things in life such as art, music, and literature. You can express a very friendly, debonair personality to strangers which invariably makes a very favourable impression. It has been your experience that once you lose control to indulgent habits, for example, smoking, drinking, or emotional outbursts, it is very difficult to retain control. You would be affected in the health through a sensitive solar plexus and nervous system. Nervous disorders, nervous indigestion, and stomach ulcers could develop.
Pentacon stares at me says, 'GM.' And I say to it, 'I can't, you fuckers. Fuck off.' And I pout. Weird dreams. Dreams that stem straight from hornyness, and dreams that are all about how destructive my current path is on, I think. As if I needed a dream to tell me I'm fucked. I need a new word, other than fucked. How about altoid. I'm toided! At least I'm tasty, if not sour and mouth puckering. Which leads me to mention I don't like the 'toid strips for breath.
Not much coherent to say, or even think. Scrub, scrub, scrub.