Trapped

Rob sees that I am not co-ordinating with Lu. I've been so fortified from her leaving, I've learned to plan my life on my own. I continue but now Lu complains that I don't discuss with her before the plans are made. She says I don't want to be home. Truth is, I don't. I'm still restless. I see the documentaries of careers of people constantly engaged, working the issues and yet I'm painting and patching walls. I'm not moving money, I'm not taking risks, I'm not using my imagination to build. I'm watching Lu take boring pictures of birds. I don't care to watch the beavers. There's no truth for me there. I don't get what her facscination is, I just don't get it. She is so different, so not caring to communicate about what's going on within her unless absolutately pressed or necessary. I can I look forward to a life like her father: quietly enjoying a small world, isolated from every single human. I look at the Becky tapes, she certainly recalls dramatically her world, though I can only observe and appreciate and watch as I watch American Idol, the struggle for a deeper meaning is not there for me. So I lost my interest in her. With Lu I just don't get it. I do tend to read into them something more. I may occupy the dizzy, loose pieces world of my Mom. What world is Paul K. struggling with? Is he transcending? For me traveling gives me that sense of movement. Superficial sense? What art is worth my while? What do I have to say? Sometimes I read those early essays and I understand the struggle to grab the assumptions by the throat. The passion is gone between us, I feel I must just sit. I fear her anger which distorts reality but the point is beyond that. Rob forges ahead to create a master work. I sit back and observe. What am I refining? On Sunday I was totally fullfilled cause I had an adventure in my own backyard, now that I;ve spent time there, it's torture, particularly after the bugs and cold while Lu waits for beavers. Like the 3 hours watching Lions sleep. I just don't know how to ask her what's going on. I dread to have to work on those houses. I dread to let my folks down about going to Columbia but they now seemed to not care if I went. I'm not needed and I've not made myself necessary. Lu feels like a maid for me. I'm totally confused. This meaningless world of my. I'm in maintenance mode. Vintage posters?