�It is in our idleness, in our dreams, that the submerged truth sometimes comes to the top.� � Virginia Woolf A woman so obsessed with water that she ended up giving her life to it, walking further and further into the ocean until her head no longer rose above it�s surface. But even she could not be purposefully and perpetually interred beneath her wet blanket� everything floats, eventually.

What is that, they say, about thunder growing closer in time to its preceding flash of lightning? The spurts of time that I am social and interactive between my deafening silent �me-time� is getting shorter and shorter. I don�t want to hang, I don�t want to talk to people, I don�t want to be part of any group. I just want to be, without cause for explanation. As far as I�m concerned, no one really needs an explanation from me. For anything.

Last night I had a wonderfully pleasant dinner with a wonderful man. Always nice to catch up with a good friend. I mean, a GOOD friend. That one who never lets you down, even if you weren�t really expecting him to show up in the many ways he does. That one, you know. If you have one, you�re lucky. I know I am. Then, we stopped by Bunny�s to check out the amazing progress of her beautiful yard.

And after that short visit, I wanted to go home and be alone. I thought of stopping by a friend�s house, but didn�t want to deal with the drama that found her doorstep, so I got myself a movie, and I went home and watched it. And enjoyed myself immensely. It�s the simple things, you know. Sometimes, it�s the quiet times.

-Barbarella

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