February 1996

By now I know that anything I envision becomes real down the line. I'm exactly where I wanted to be. I'm registered for classes at Modesto Junior College. African-American Literature class is pretty heavy.
While I was in Chicago my dad's sister Aunt Suzie and I discussed placing dad in a treatment center for his drinking. I doubt they will actually go through with it. But when I told mom about this she cried. I cried. Mom cried because she has struggled with my father's alcoholism for so long, and now, finally, one of dad's own sisters admits he has a problem.
Mom and I had our huge emotional out. 'I'll never be happy because you never were,' I said. But I know this is not true. I will forget their pain. It's not mine. It shouldn't be. I can appreciate their struggle without it becoming my own.
Will have to wait for the answers.
I am open.

Last night my aunt Jackie and I sat up late and talked. We share the same concerns- mom, the entire family, life. Jackie admitted that she would love to pick up and move back to Chicago, but this is not at all possible for her, what with the rest home in Marin. Both she and I have so much to work out in our futures it seems.
Langston Hughes is wonderful, by the way.

Been getting into acid jazz.
Life feels a bit safe for now. I'll take it knowing that it will soon change.

Speak to me, fortunetellers. Tell me. Tell me. Carve in stone for me the map of my life. All that remains ahead. The future still misty, unborn. I won't know what will happen until the decision is set for me by something other than myself, and the heart and mind are in agreement. So, I have to wait and see like everyone else.

My time so far here in California is far from clean. I shroomed with a young co-worker. The streets were flooded that night from all the rain.
I think of Brandon often. I will forever miss him.

There's nothing like music.