Topanga Canyon, Sunday Evening

Tomorrow is going to be a crazy, crazy day.

It will start with me getting up about 4 am, PDT. Why? I've kept myself on my own body clock, East Coast time, so as to make adapting back easier. I'd go nuts switching gears twice in a week's time.

Then, dawdling. Dawdling? Well, my plane doesn't lift until about 10 pm...so I'm going to do my last minute Los Angeles shopping in the afternoon, probably at the Third Street Promenade. Have to. Of course, I'm not going to go nuts...can't afford to, and several of the people who asked me to get them things, well, they haven't earned them. I'm making some adjustments.

I'm hoping I can find a lounge at LAX that is showing the Monday Night Football game. I am, after all, a Steelers fan (yeah, I know, new age poetic god likes smashmouth football. bite me.)...

So things will be a bit lunatic tomorrow. The solitude has been useful, it has given me time to reflect, to evaluate my path. I've made my piece with my past mistakes, everyone I've known I have issues with, I have apologized. That's a statement of my character. What they do with that apology is a statement of their character. I can't babysit the karmatarded (my own coinage, there).

You move on, or you keep rooted in the past. The one person I've held a grudge with over the years never apologized for his actions, never considered his actions wrong. I'd still let him in my house, I just wouldn't seek out his company. People who don't accept that fact that you can grow beyond your mistakes are almost always those who are flatliners. Zero growth, spiritually.

Unfortunately, according to C.S. Lewis, many...most...lack real moral sentience. It makes life trying. Imagine having your eyesight in a room with violently moving blind people who do not understand that there is such a sense as eyesight. They don't understand what you're yelling about. And you get frustrated dodging them.

I'm not claiming superiority, just an incidental awareness of my own failures. I'd rather, most days, be one of the self-righteous numb. It is exhausting, this existence. It doesn't make me a better person, just more precisely aware of my failings.