last glass...dusty buckets...parched e-lips...sponge...drip...drop

2003-08-19 - 3:27 p.m.: cereal-flavored milk with sugar crystals

i've been thinking a lot, lately, about what makes people start to droop, psychologically, when they grow up. women, particularly, because i happen to be one. what makes them get bossy? irritable? uncaring, unfeeling� boring or callous or just plain mean? what makes frown wrinkles form? what makes eyes squint and smiles get buried under worry lines and preoccupations? what makes crude jokes and bawdiness suddenly become "unfunny" and free-spiritedness give way to brow-knitting caution? there are so many possibilities.. disappointments that wear away at optimism� stresses that eat up free time� the cultivation of a "common sense" that dissolves imagination� but still. there has to be some way of fending that off. right? right. and i think it has to do with awareness� reflection� continuous self-improvement, refinement. it's the same as anything else. not letting your true self get buried in the fat of everyday life. keeping the edge. keeping the things that define you from a lump of mitotic cells DEFINED. i think that's where this diary�or *a* diary�is going to save my life. it keeps me from dwelling on things too long� but it also keeps me from just gliding over them. forces me to take myself into account� to follow the path i've taken from where i've been. to think about where i'm going. to ask, "what in my life do i find interesting enough to comment on? what questions do i want to ask myself? what have i learned?" diaries force this kind of introspection. so, i think, do good relationships based on mutual, reflexive curiosity. but without something reminding�or demanding�us to look inside� do we? do we ask ourselves, on our own, questions that keep us alive? or does the unexamined mental log dwindle to "what's for dinner? is there enough for a load of whites? what's on t.v.? who should i vote for? is it my turn to carpool?"

of course, there's always the possibility that mean, boring adults started out as mean, boring children�

but i've never personally met a mean, boring child.

so.. hooray for diaries.

and good friends, who make you think.

you know you're lucky when your emails and conversations start to look like, or replace, your diary entries. that is a phenomenon so wonderful and rare that i hope i never take it for granted.