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That's my drive back to Arcata. Took you seconds to read/gloss over, hours to live...

I stopped on 101, about 90 miles south of home...there's this closed/old/unused section of 101 I have noticed the last several times passing by it...Walking along the old, cracked pavement, I coudl envision the cars zooming around in years past...I ended up hiking down the cliff to the Russian River...so beautifull...so majestic, no hand of man near, no evidence of civilization...so few people have gone where I went today...but there were a few...footprints in the sand was clearly evidence of that...

'"And so castles made of sand fall in the sea eventually" JH V'
That's what I wrote in the sand just before skinny dipping for a bit...I felt so refreshed, revtalized, and *clean* when I left the river. I had wanted to swim across, but all alone, unknowning how strong the undercurrent/current was out in the center, I held off...maybe someday later...But I felt so at peace with the world there, so much like I fit in it. Didn't finish _The Celestine Prophecy_ but I don't think I was "meant" to finish it wuite yet...so much to mull over already...I didn't feel it proper to spoil it by finishing it just yet...

Just caught up with sarah's journal. phun phun phun...nothin like reading someone else's worries/ramblings/musings...everytime I go away for a time and see a weeks worth of entries I have to catch up on, I groan...so much to read...and I bitch and moan inwardly about it...but you know, when I'm done with it, I want another entry to read...go figure.

Christa is in Lodi with her parents right now. We've actually been keeping each otehr up to date on our daily happenings this past week. I so can't wait to see her again...even if just to sit and be near her for an hour or so. I am my own person. I don't feel "imcomplete" when she's not near...but at the same time, I feel like I'm just so much "more" when she's around. I dunno...it's hard to describe without gettin all lovey/dovey about it. I have to admit, I'm pissed/dissapointed/confused/???? we're just "friends" but that's the way it has to be, and even as is it's satisfying like no other friendship has ever been...all this from only knowing her two weeks (if you count this past week where we never saw each other...)

Larisa (mom) and I had another engaging conversation last night. I feel good to talk to her on such level footing...to be a friend with my mother, not just her son...never really been a "friend" with either of my parents, but it's changing now with their aging, with my maturing...for the first time, we have intellectual thoughts we can discuss ogether, we have equal standing and diverse enough backgrounds to bring new light to topics. Thoughts from my mother are no longer "lectures", they are conversation starters.
My father and I have not yet reached this level of understanding. There are still too many unresolved issues between us and I have not yet personally progressed far enough to have equal footing with him...my parents ar two widely disparate people, and it almost means two different modes of maturity to obtain this equal footing...but that makes it seem one is superior to the other...that's not the case and I'm having trouble describing what I mean here...maybe you understand already...

I didn't sleep well at all last night, tossing/turning...I could only manage an hour or two before awakening in a tussled heap. It was not a refreshing period of slumber in any sense of the word. I actually found myself out of bed before my mother left for work even...it at least meant I could say goodbye again...

I think the january entries are not onlne currently. I know they're not here on my school account, and I don't *think* they're at the archive site...I need to put them back up (oh yeaaaahhhh I have this all saved to hard drive and to disk, baby...no way I'm giving my gut wrenching life a chance to get corrupted and lost...I can't believe anyone *would* give something that chance, important like this or not...).

I wonder sometimes how long this journal will last. Some people go a year, some people go a few months. Still other people, like sarah, cry and scream about how stoopid and unjust those people are...she says she'll be going for years to come...so I wonder where this will be a year from now. Will I still be here? This journal was born in times of trouble and is helping me through them. If I find comfort and solutions and inner peace and most of these worries I try to work past herein...if they are resolved, will I still feel the urge to write? If I do continue to write, will it become stale and uninteresting. Will I beomec anotehr of those, "I did this today, then I did that, then I went to sleep" kind of journalists? God someone just fucking take that double barreled shotgun, jam it in my mouth, and blow the head off this journal, cuz I couldn't stomach that kind of writing...relapse into high school years writing, into utter crap, useless to write, useless to read, useless to keep. I've kept all my bad poetry, and I use it to prove to myself that I have come at least a *little* far...

But of course, I'm rambling here, aren't I. Does it matter really though? I mean, If I wanna ramble, I can...bu t I find no real use for it...

I emailed sarah tonight...askin her if she was OK, telling her I'm here for whatever use she can squeeze from me...I just hope my dream of her was not really indicitive of her reality...but if it is, I want her to reach out for help, from me, from *someone*, doesn't matter who. If it's as dark as my dream portrayed, I think I can understand...I just wait for her to reply...

And then, of course, I could have simply been projecting *myself* into her body in that dream...

_It's a Wonderful Life_ (that *is* the movie I think of right? Where the angel shows him what the world would be like w/o him?)

whadeva