September 1996

I'm out in Playwriting class and my writing reflects that. Everyone is supportive. As an artist I am naked.
Last weekend Geo and I went to visit Robert in Yosemite again. Everyone was intoxicated on some drug or other. In the morning Geo and I swam in an ice-cold river among the minnows. We've made a pact to be clean and sober for two weeks.
I am now twenty-three and should have a career and a family by Assyrian standards. I wonder how I'll make up for it.
It's surprisingly easy to get laid in this town. Modesto is full of lustful urges and opportunities.
But mom and I are eventually moving to the Bay Area. Funny how intimidated I can be by the very same things I long for. We're moving into a house Mom-Suzie has bought near the rest home in Novato where mom can help out with the business while I work and go to school. I will be living a half-hour north of San Francisco!

I don't gossip. I refuse to. It's easy for me to contain myself. White lies don't tempt me.
Mom had a crisis with her past and the grudges she holds. 'Let it go,' I consoled her and rubbed her back. She cried like a little girl. I suffer, too, but carefully.
I suppose all is well. I'm not where I want to be artistically. But all is well.
Thank you, God, for this sense of peace in my life.

This town is too small. Assyrians are gossipers. They can be tactless. My indifference in this case is healthy. Over time I have learned not to care what people may think of me. At moments I fail, but I keep practicing. Vivian, whom I met at the college, is a wonderful and broadminded young Assyrian woman. It seems that she and her family break the mold in that they accept Vivian's two lesbian sisters, and are supportive. I adore Vivian who is extremely intellectual and funny.