Down to the wire. Sometimes I wonder how people can go about their days as if nothing is bothering them. As if there is no car to get checked, no bill sitting somewhere to be paid, no shampoo to be bought, no, for these people everything just flows, just goes, just slides into place without a thought, without effort, without stress or frustration. What�s the secret? How do they get through a day without constant preoccupation with all of those details? All of those little things that need to get done? The dishes, the trash, a messy room? How is it that they do not get overwhelmed by details, overwhelmed as I do by the simplest and primarily thoughtless things in life? The trivial things? And why is it that I must make every triviality into the grandest project, the most difficult hurdle? What talent you have, Barb. What talent.

I went to bed early last night. It felt good. Sleeping, laying, comfort and covers. Life offers many things, but I find myself shunning what I am offered, and wanting instead to take what is not mine� yet. Have it, own it. Make it mine. Where was this drive 5 years ago? Don�t we always wonder that, though? As we age, we wonder in retrospect why we made the choices we did, why we didn�t do what we knew we could, those perennial and unanswerable questions. I don�t have a lot of regret. No, I don�t regret much of anything, I�m happy with my experiences in life. It�s the things I HAVEN�T done yet that consume my thoughts when I enter pensive moods such as this. So I dive into my head, mull over every thought, every want, every desire, and eventually, I emerge. Nothing wrong with that. Nothing wrong with introspection and reflection. I think a lot more people could use heavy doses of both. But alas, these are just my thoughts and nothing more. It�s not like I have some kind of introspection injection I could run around administering to those I deemed needy. Heh heh. (note to self: patent the Introspection Injection)

See, I�m already beginning to lighten up. I just feel like reading the dictionary today. Not dealing with people, or the things I have to do (which I will), but just reading the dictionary. How sick is that? Who knew that someone who immensely enjoys 2 days with dozens of people and a cocktail of various, well-mixed drugs could get off completely sober, with a big book of words, words, and what they mean? I never said it had to make sense. Never said I wasn�t an anomaly. The exception to the stereotype. But that�s just me trying to feel unique and special, nothing more.

God, you know I could drown in this fucking rhetoric, this verbal vomit of sorts, this (see, I�m doing it now) this nothing. This nothing, because these are just words, and I am just rambling for the sake of rambling, and slowly, you are beginning to resent me for not getting to any kind of a point here. You think I�m sharing? That you are peaking into my mind, that I am giving you a glimpse into the workings of the watch? You are my experiment. Every day I am able to mold my image by choosing or not choosing to share what goes on in my head. Therefore, change your opinion, in the slightest of intervals, a mindset you believed immutable, and yet you raise a brow even now, questioning my veracity, my intention. Or perhaps not. Perhaps you realize, as I now do, that this entire entry has been merely to indulge my fingers, itching to type, to silence my mind by letting it spit so that I may get on with my day.

Or maybe, these are just the thoughts of a woman. And now you have seen them. And now, woman or man, you are right back where you started, where we all started, before we began this trek, because sometimes, the thoughts of a woman lead you nowhere you wanted to go, nowhere you thought you might go. Sometimes, these feminine thoughts bring you right back to yourself, the last place many of us want to be. The first place we should all wish to be. And here we are.

-Barbarella

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