I did not want to get out of bed this morning. It just felt like a vacation day. But, here I am, at work, huge coffee in hand, pretty soon I�ll be bouncing off the walls. Oh, yippee. This morning, I knew what I was going to write about today. But I�ve forgotten. Odd, that. I just want to get under a blanket and read for a day. And it�s not even cold outside. I had a good night, tasty dinner, good conversation, pleasant view. Nice for a Monday, nice way to start off the week. I just used the word, �nice�, quite a bit. Nice, good times, good times. Neat. I�m happy I brought that up, yes, good. The world is out of adjectives and I�m just another victim of redundancy. But enough about me. Let�s talk about what I think of everyone else.

I spend way too much time picking people apart. I�d stop, but it�s just too much fun, juvenility can always be entertaining. But only for a short while, before I become bored with myself and desperate for some sort of exalted amusement, diversion from banality, anything to move me up and out of the little ruts I tend to work myself into. Pacing back and forth until I work a groove into the ground, that�s when I realize I need to take a step out before I get too deep. I was telling a good friend the other day that I�ve been in this mood lately, the same mood I was in for months before I moved to LA. That stagnancy. That need for change, for something new and different.

All that tells me is that I�m not living to my potential. Gliding through life from situation to situation, not taking control and directing the boat, rather floating around at the whim of a capricious wind. That�s no way to live. I don�t want life to dictate anything to me, I want to pick and choose and make it mine. There�s a quote I wrote awhile ago, and I believe I had forgotten it for too long: �I believe that every choice I am given in life is given to me by the universe, that fate picks the colors of my palette. But I am still the painter here, and it is my own decision to choose the brightest, most colorful and vibrant of those selections to create and compose the only painting I will ever complete with ultimate freedom � my life.�

I don�t want to be splattered color, remnants of paint debris from things that happen around me. I don�t want to be a splotched picture, with only spots of my favorite colors strewn here and there. I want to live the picture in my mind, to be the colors I love most. I know, these things take time and effort. But I keep forgetting how, for the end result, it�s so worth it. I find myself sick of things, sick of people, sick of situations. And yet, despite the emetic qualities, I hang around, I continuously feed the miserable monster. Why do we do that? What is it in us that says, �this makes me miserable, this annoys me, I think I�ll stick around for awhile and see if it changes?� It doesn�t change. We change and it�s up to us whether we want to move into our new selves or try to stay in the same space as it gets tighter and tighter around us. I liken it to a bird molting or a snake shedding its skin. When you are developing a fresh layer, why continue to cover yourself in one that is dead and flaking all around you?

I expressed my frustration with a close friend of mine about how I thought some people I know and love have changed, and I don�t agree with a lot of their choices and that I felt bad for even feeling like I could be in a place to disagree. She said, �They�re not the ones changing, Barb. You�re the one changing.� I never thought of it that way. I never wanted to change. I never wanted to tire of the scene. I�m tired of the scene. I�m tired of knowing what to expect. I�m tired of patterns, tired of problems, tired of my inner incessant bitching about things I like to pretend not to have control over, but I know I do. Tired of it all. It�s time for a serious rejuvenation course in life. Time for a serious escape, so I can take a step back from all these trees, look at the forest, and consciously decide whether or not I want to build a treehouse there. I�m on the right track, I just need to keep moving, because if I stop for even a moment, I�ll forget which direction I was going. And I hate getting lost.

-Barbarella

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