I really did set out to create a space that would INTEREST and EDUCATE those of you who straggle in here. I'm afraid that instead I've revealed my laziness. I seem to be suffering through a lazy streak. Think of all the interesting things I could write in here. I could, for instance, post past journal entries from my teenage years in here, so painful for me to read now because you would think I was an absolutely dingey, stupid girl full of nothing but self-loathing and boy-lust. In a word, how most teenagers come off to the world. But I SWEAR, I swear I had deeper thoughts even then. Which brings me to the whole concept of journals and self-revelation. I never seem to write about what is good, my joys and success in my journals. I've got something like sixty or seventy of the fuckers and you know what they are? Catalogues of suffering. And not like, world suffering...oh no...suffering over pimples and spurned love, over girlfriends stabbing me in the back, and me stabbing back. Over parents and their bad decisions. Not an original thought in the mix.

And I don't think that has changed. However, I think I've decided I need to take on a religion. Or a spiritual discipline. One with some kind of figurehead at its zenith. I could go into my ethnic stream and pick up some judaism. Or I could follow with my parents early hippie ethic and take on a newage medium like transcendental meditation or throwing the I-ching. But I think I might need to get the experience now that I'm an adult of the whole church scene. But since I'm terribly against the major world religions I don't think I'd make a good Christian, Muslim or Jew, nor even a Buddhist, Taoist or Sufist. So...I think I might have to check out the Science of Mind, which is NOT scientology at least and seems to take the best from all religions. Maybe I need the experience. Maybe I need to be reminded (or brainwashed) into believing there is a purpose to our human experiences here. Pressed too heavily beneath the weight of my personality, I feel easily despairing and seek convenient material answers, thinking my agent's phone call with good news will save my soul...

Being a writer is dangerous. Do not attempt this at home.

J