I just wrote two different entries an erased them both. Sometimes, you get to the bottom of something you thought you wanted and you realize, it�s just not all it was cracked up to be. That�s one of the reasons I limit my wants. I just take and taste what�s around me while it�s there, and as a result, I find I spend a lot less time pining and dreaming and wishing and waiting for anything, anything better, more more more. I realized, after I reread my almost-entries (hmm, that sounds sexual, �almost�) that they were very surface. That they were stories of incidences between yesterday morning�s entry and now. But those stories aren�t what I�m thinking, so sharing them in a diary and not one of my short-story journals would go against my grain. Something I�m very rarely aware of, I do believe if I possess the proverbial �grain� that things can �go against�, then it must be a tiny fraction of my fellow humans� �grain-length�. If that made any sense to you, you�re one step above the rest.

But what is really on my mind, I think to myself. So much going on in life. In mine, in those around me. Sometimes, I find it much easier to keep my thoughts on a surface level. Like, my skin is dry, I need some lotion, hmm, where did I put my lavender lotion, it�s my favorite, this coffee tastes sweeter than yesterday�s, my biggest decision this morning was liquid? Or pencil? When your biggest decision is which fucking eyeliner to choose, you KNOW that you�re not in touch with what�s really going on. I escape my mind with the aid of trivial things. Bogus drama, exaggerated anger and frustration towards things and people that don�t really bother me when I think about it.

I went to meditation last night. I was pretty much out of it, not thinking about any one thing in particular, fantasies and experiences looping themselves on my imagination�s film reel, but one thing did pull my eyes away from the images self-projected in my head. Jacob, the speaker, talked about people and drama and how, the more we grow and work on ourselves and our attitudes, our perceptions, etc., the less trivial drama we allow into our lives. And I noticed that lately, in my own life. Jacob said that it�s not necessarily the drama we don�t like and can�t handle� it�s hearing about it over and over from someone you KNOW is not doing anything to change/help/learn from the situation in their life. I looked around at the people I know � friends, acquaintances -- and immediately, the ones who popped into my head as those I had no tolerance for, are those who seem to bring drama upon themselves with no thought to do anything about it but mope, freak-out, talk, get depressed, and roundy-round we go. There�s no end to that cycle except self-realization. Realizing that when you�re drowning, 9 times out of 10, it�s your fucking hand holding your own head under the water�s surface. And all this time, people all around are reaching to help, just to be met in the face with a punch from your other hand, warding off all help and protecting the hand that holds you down. YOU.

There are many people I�ve tried to help. To show that things ain�t half bad, that there are other options in life and attitude. It�s true, though, it IS easy for me to say, I�m not in their head, I could never know what they go through. I can only be grateful it�s not me in there, choking on the water from my past, spitting up droplets of life and occasionally gasping for bits of air between dunks. I�m sure I couldn�t live that way. I guess some people just get used to it, it�s like hostage-mentality � they know no other way. So this is home.

My mother is a perfect example of this. I went to dinner with her the other night. The first time we�ve spent one-on-one time in� I can�t remember. It was pleasant. We laughed, we updated each other, we had Normal conversation. I didn�t remember that being possible with her. She didn�t berate me. She didn�t annoy me, she actually seemed to be listening. I was stunned at first, then gradually slipped into a relaxed and comfortable mood with her. She didn�t complain about her life, about anything, really. The closest she came to it was mentioning something about being �depressed� between bites. She is alone. I always begin to feel bad for her when that thought pops into my head, oh how horrible it would be to be alone. But I look around at the rest of my family, at other people in my life, and any one of them could say, �I�m alone.� They choose to spend time with friends, though, and when they ARE, in fact, alone, it is also their choice.

And they realize that. My mother doesn�t know the difference. She says, �I�m alone,� and she doesn�t do anything to change the situation, or even her perception of her situation. I gave her a kiss on each cheek, and a long hug goodbye. And I thought over and over, She�s a big girl, she can handle life, she�s got 4 wonderful daughters, she�s successful and loved at her job, by her family, by people in general. She�s got a great life!

By the time I reached my car door in the driveway, my cheeks were wet with tears� if only she realized what a great life she had.

-Barbarella

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