Books...

Books...are better than life.

You can pick up a book and live it whenever you want that life.

You can put the book down when you need a break.

No wonder I spent my youth up a tree reading a book. All summer long on any non-rainy day, I would climb the tree behind the house and read. Then I could take a walk to the swamp and pretend to be the heroine. In bad weather, I would hide in my room or in the basement, and I would be transported to another sunny life.

How wonderful and lucky that my parents gave me the safety and security of a childhood where I could live through books and nature.

The heroine of my book always has a struggle, but she endures, and she thrives.

Her family is always quirky, but good loving people.

Friends are always the loyal and supportive sidekicks that build the heroine up instead of tear down.

The struggle comes from God, nature, society, man, or self.

I'm old enough to be over, for the most part, my doubt of or anger at God. God does not cause me much struggle anymore. He is more of a comport, a guide, a beacon home.

In the safe confines of my hometown, I do not have to struggle with much of a force of nature. An occasional power outage, a foot of snow...those are not life-struggling events. Those are just things to deal with. Nature is usually my friend. I can remember being upset in college. I would just look out the window and watch the leaves blow on the tree. My Dad always said, "You do what you have to do."

Society is a fearful thing. You have to wonder what we are all thinking collectively to have gotten to such a strange place in our time. We think certain things are okay when they are so strange. I heard once that people who are afraid to be individuals join groups. I think as well, people want others to be like them to validate themselves. I don't want anyone to be like me...that would be boring. However, we're constantly held up to the expectations of others. If you don't dress like this or act like this, then you are nothing, because you are not like me. It's the ego of the individual to think that they represent society. My Dad always said, "You just have to get along with people."

Me against man. My Dad always said, "Everyone's different." Why is it, then, that we cannot be accepting of others when they are not like us? I'm going to try to be more accepting of rude, stupid people when dealing with them one on one. They cannot help it that they are not totally cool like me. Every one of us has no idea what the other person is feeling or thinking. There is all this history that no one else can truly understand. Why do we try? Maybe we should just accept it and hope for the best. We seem to all seek this partner in life, this witness. But do they really witness you...the real you? No person knows me. Maybe the struggle comes when you want them to know.

I am in a constant struggle against myself. I am also very comfortable with myself. That, in itself, is a constant struggle. Logic? Circles.

I wish I could put this book down for a minute. Or end this chapter and start a new one.