God, I am in a fucking GREAT mood this morning. Whatever I was spiked with the other night (and I�m still holding true to the idea that I must have been drugged) is apparently out of my system. Crooked little smile, and I danced in the car all the way to work. Some good things and some bad things going on. A good thing? Well, a good online friend is moving into town this weekend. When I first caught wind of this one, I thought I�d be able to fuck this boy�s shit up, you know, completely corrupt and ruin him (always a fun mission), but after much rambling chat, I realize he�s already way ahead of the game. Funny as shit, cool as fuck, he�s going to make a great addition to many a San Diego crew.

My friends are getting ready for Burning Man, it�s just so much fun to catch the excitement and anticipation in the tone of their voices, the tone of their writing. Dlove in particular has kept me smiling every day, his enthusiasm is so contagious and the stating of his plans and check lists reminds me so much of my sisters. And I�m not even going this year! I�ll miss the fun, but can�t wait to hear about it. It�s more important for me to take it easy this year, I know I�d consume more than I could handle out there for a week straight, and man, that�s what I�ve been doing all summer. Wouldn�t want to be a buzz kill and break into convulsions or anything. Yeah, not good. In a way, I�m excited for it all to be over, selfishly of course, because that will free up a lot of my friends� schedules, which will give me the opportunity to fill their dance cards. Everyone�s so busy that I haven�t heard from a few very close friends in weeks. Phone calls are few and far between, and I can hardly remember the last time I spent even a good, quality hour with some key people in my heart. Yeah, we all get busy, but then again, we all know how to make time when we want to.

Okay, onto something else that�s been plaguing my mind since yesterday. My mother�s mother is in the hospital. The other night, she fell and hit her head, and for some reason, one of her legs is a dark red color, a bit swollen, and hot to the touch. She lives in New Jersey with my mother�s father and not too far away from my mother�s two sisters. Now, I am going to reveal a horrible thing about myself, a bad thought, something Master Love would call one of my �shadows�. Driving home yesterday, I thought to myself, you know, I could really milk this. Grandmother sick, been dying for years now, but now it�s more serious, think of the sympathy I could elicit. Think of the things I could get away with, with this kind of tragedy as an excuse. How could I think those things? Usually, those things wouldn�t even cross my mind, because I WOULD be upset, and I wouldn�t care about the sympathy or attention, wouldn�t want it in fact, because I�d want to deal with my loss in my own way.

It�s only when I don�t care that I consider what it would be like if I DID care. Is this making any sense to you? Let me give some background here. Ann (her name) is a miserable woman. She is negative, she is ignorant, she is devoid of self-love, and I find that very sad. I used to hate her. The things she�d say, the way I knew she made my mother feel, the history of abuse, the history of hate. A year ago, I gave up on the hate, it wasn�t doing me any good anyhow. Now, I pity her. I feel sorry for Pop Pop, my grandfather, who has been taking care of her and who has been the brunt of her abuse since her daughters left the house. She has several types of cancer, has had her breasts removed, severe diabetes, and a hundred other ailments. Before the cancer, it was always something, though. You know that person, we all know one, who complains 24/7? She is mine. She used to call the house and it�s sad, but all of us would run and hide to not have to speak with her. Because you get on the phone, and it�s �how are you, Grammy?� �Oh, God, not good, not good, my knee hurts, and I can�t walk and,� boo fucking hoo.

Yeah, it sucks to be ill. But she deliberately did NOT follow the treatment, did not do the physical therapy that would have kept her walking years ago. This woman prefers to be an invalid and to force everyone around her to serve and pity her. HER mother was bedridden for 8 years and when a nurse finally came to the house, she screamed at the family for letting her stay in the bed, said she was perfectly fine and could have been up and about, but now the sores and atrophied muscles would kill her.

I do not react well to martyrdom, I do not react well to people who dig their own grave, jump in and then scream at the top of their lungs, bellow to the masses how miserable it is to be in that hole, that hole that they wouldn�t want to get out of even if they could. It doesn�t make sense to me.

My mother is very upset. I am upset, because I know that this woman, my grandmother, will die having never truly lived. And when she dies, I know that the majority of those who knew her will guiltily hide their sighs of relief as they share their masks of grief. They will physically and emotionally feel the pressure of a strong negative presence lifted from their lives, just to be replaced with the guilt and remorse for their feelings of relief that that negative presence spent a lifetime instilling.

I feel heartless. And there are a million things racing through my mind about my family members, a million things I know are going to come up regarding my mother. I don�t know how she will handle this. She was just getting there, just over the serious depth of her depression, happy about being a grandmother, dealing with my father leaving, coming to love herself. But I heard it in her voice yesterday. The regression, the little girl, the self-hatred, the guilt for not being there, the guilt for that deep-down thought she�s had a million times in her life, that silent wish, �I wish she would just die.� I am fine with this passing. It�s my mother I�m worried about. And all the battling emotions, what I feel and how I think I SHOULD feel, that I will be dealing with soon.

But for now? I�m still in that great mood. I�m gonna sit in it for awhile, before I have to put it on the shelf for a bit so I can concentrate enough to sort things out. I�m so happy it�s Friday.

-Barbarella

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