I am taking a class this semester called "College Success." It is a requirement to transfer to the univeristy that I have chosen to attend next semester. The class is a college sanctioned self-help seminar. The first two topics covered were Self-esteem and Personal Responsibility. The idea of being responsible for all of the choices I will make in my life was pretty scary at first. I have been very good at blaming my childhood, parents, and just about everything and everyone for any problem I have ever encountered. So, this idea that I am the one who has control over the choices that I make, and, that those choices are what will determine the outcome of the events in my life, was a major revelation.

As I said, taking that responsibilty was scary. I realized that the wall I had built up as a protection mechanism against the world was gone. I felt naked. However, once I got over the initial shock I was overwhelmed by a sense of freedom. Suddenly, I had at my disposal all the power in the world to accomplish anything I could ever imagine doing with my life.

I am satisfied.

Something has come to my attention recently. It is the word peace. Different people from almost opposite sides of the world say the word with very different connotations. With the events leading up to the resignation of Liberian President Charles Taylor there have been many occasions on the television where I have seen Liberians saying the word peace. I suppose it wasn't until I heard a news report without images on National Public Radio, that I really took notice of what is a significant difference in the way that the Liberians say the word peace as opposed to the way that people from the U.S. say it. When someone in the U.S. says peace it is typically in a resigned and despondent tone. Sometimes it is said without conviction. It is as though Americans don't believe any peace is ever really possible.

When I heard the man on NPR say "peace" the other night on the radio, there was a different tenor to his voice. It took me a time to place it. Then I realized and thought to myself,"That man says peace like it is wrapped up in hope and faith." That is the difference between the United States and many other foreign countries. In the U.S. we have lost our hope and faith.

I always hear people say that their mothers are the best mom's on the planet. The difference when I make the same statement is that it is the complete, god honest truth. I knew this for certain when we were driving to Sacramento from San Francisco.

After being gone for 7 months it was good to know that some things never change. My mom and I had just spent about 6 minutes too long in the drive through line at the Starbuck's in Vallejo when we paused a moment to find space for our Venti Coffee Frappuccinos. I cannot describe precisely what it was that my mom did, and I believe it was her mannerisms. The "trying to find a place to put something in a very small sports car that has all the stuff in it that I might need in Sacramento or my flat in Oakland or if i get taken away by aliens I want to make sure I have my curling iron" thought process was absolutely hilarious. And by the look on my face, she knew, that I knew her terrible little secret.

She is, and has been for a number of years now, trying to "simplify" her life. A sort of pruning of the belongings if you will. This idea was of course ridiculous from the get go. The sports car is one glaring example of how silly the whole thing is. The woman, and i love her dearly, got the car on the false premise that having a smaller car would mean less "crap" as she so eloquently puts it. As I have described recently she has made it into her personal "fight terrorism" kit. (Did I mention that when they(the terrorist types) attack she also has a stylish getaway vehicle.

Point being, when we exchanged the look while trying to find long ago non-existent cup holders for our cold coffee drinks, we both cracked up laughing because we know what the problem is. We know and can laugh together because I also make my vehicle into my escape car.

Why is it so hard to remember not to discuss serious subjects after 8 beers? Why is it that the only time I feel like discussing serious subjects is after I have had a sufficient amount of alcohol?

What is it with pinheads who insist on talking and/or answering mobile phones during a movie!

I only have one word, Jackass.

I thought 5 beers would be enough to enter the dreamless bliss most people refer to as "passing out". Apparently I am too much of a practiced drinker to be sedated by a mere 5 beers.

This being the case I had another running from death dream. This time ala SARS Virus and stampeding buffalos. Where do I get this stuff from. Obviously SARS is in the news alot lately but I think this is definitely my brain trying to relieve the stress I refuse to acknowledge during the daylight hours. The suppressed stress being an upcoming flight back to the USA via a SARS affected country that the World Health Organisation has recently issued a travel warning for. As for the stampeding buffalos I can only assume it was a conservation show about Africa that I watched a few days ago that provided that lovely picture in my head.

Whatever happened to beauty sleep!

Why is my subconscious so easily swayed by random images from my day? Last night was the final straw in the struggle between my conscious and subconscious mind. I can't take the drama. When I wake up I am left wondering if my early am visions are some clue into my psyche or the future. Is it my mind trying to tell me something about my past. Or is it in fact just puting together some half-baked story with images I have seen throughout the day to punish me for the handful of crackers I ate right before bed.

Right before I went to bed I even went as far as to promise myself that I would have nice dreams. Instead, the Grim Reaper and many multiples of him (Matrix Reloaded ring any bells) are chasing me and a heap of other people. Scenes of a spaceship crashing and people running out of its path. Then I yank a girl off the railroad track just before the train comes. On and on it goes. Always just barely avoiding the inevitable that will get all of us...eventually.

UGH! I haven't had a decent dream in ages. By decent I mean a dream that lets me wake up with some feeling other than fear, disgust or alarm. It seems the only time I get a good nights rest is when I pass out after a night of drinking.