What is this?
What are we working for? A house? A car?
Are we working to have a special life?
But more, are we happy with what we have?
What does it mean to have a good quality of life?

I wonder about these things.
When is enough, enough?
When can we sit back, or when do we get to say, ah, yes –
This is what we came for . . .

I am going to treat this entry like it’s not a journal entry; but more, I’m going to treat this like a conversation between two people.
Better yet, I’m going to treat this like it was when we were kids, just a boy and a girl, on the phone, late at night, and capable of talking about anything for hours.
I want this to be simple and pure, the same as life should be simple and no additives, no preservatives, and no unneeded complications, and no worries about what’s going on outside or in other parts of the world.

There’s no one else here, except for us two kids.

I get in and start the car.
I love it like this.
No one is on the road. The sun is just about to come up and the sky is about to change. I love the way my mind shuts down for the moment, which is not to say that I am not paying attention,
of course I am.
However, early morning drives like this are perfect for me.

I somehow slip away into this semi-aware state of mind.  
I know where I’m going, and I know how to speed up or slow down. I know how to signal when I change lanes, and I know when to stop or go.
I know when to exit or when to turn left or right.
At the same time, my body takes over these tasks and my thinking slips into a different gear.

I suppose I never looked at my elders as people. Or maybe I should say that I never realized that my parents were people too, which is interesting, and obvious, but at the same time,I look at my parents, good or bad, faults and flaws, and I never realized that they have feelings too.
They had worries and insecurities. The ame as I have defects of character or challenges and emotional difficulties—parents were not always parents, and like me, or like anyone else, parents lived and breathed before they were called Mom or Dad.

I think this is a rare thing to see.
Obvious and true.
But rare nonetheless.

I was young. I was inexperienced. Then again, I was just a kid.
I had no idea about the meaning behind the word “manhood.” And yet, I posed and postured, and I played and I would pretend. Yes, I acted like I knew or like I was unafraid.
But what else could I do?
I pretended to be cool and steady, to which I have grown enough to realize that most people are scared. Most people are frightened of something and afraid to lose, or to appear weak. No one wants to be vulnerable and there is a common fear of being exposed, used, or humiliated.

Thoughts have a way of becoming real.
I know this. And so do you. Or at least I think you do.

We can think ourselves into hysteria.
I know this is true because I can see this in myself.
However, if this is true, then it must be true that we an think ourselves into a better life, or think of better ways. If this is true, then we can think our way to victory.

I can see when I have thought my way into success, and on the other end, I can identify the times when my predictions were unkind and unfair.
Sure, I can see how thoughts can become habitual.
Of course, I can.

I agree with the idea that nothing is ever exactly the same. Even more, I agree with the opinion that says no two people are exactly the same. I agree that each person has their own way of seeing things, and each person has their own DNA, their own feelings, biases, experiences, and that we all can come from the same places and see the same things, yet we can leave with different interpretations. We can come up with different opinions, and we can witness the same thing or that we can be given the same instructions, yet we can still come to different conclusions.

Nothing worthwhile is going to come easy. This means that if it’s worthy, then you’ll have to work for it.
Do you want a house?
Good. Want a nice car?
Good.
Me too.
This means that you’ll spend more time working for the house and the car and the life you want. In all honesty, you’re going to spend more time at work than you will be at home, enjoying the house you work for or doing the things you want to do, — that is, of course, unless you have money, in which case, you might not understand the same feelings when it comes to the he pride of ownership or you might not understand the success of building your own kingdom from the ground up.

But that’s okay. To each is their own.
I don’t have it like that.
I have to work for the roof above my head.

I love my Sundays.
I love my early morning rituals and the preparation for the meals I make for the week. I share, which I think is a good thing. I think sharing a meal is one of the kindest things we can do for each other. And I understand that not all people share the same taste.
We don’t all like the same foods. But, I am a fan of the discipline that says I will try anything, three times, once, which makes sense to me.

I might have gone about something wrong, the first few times, and today — well, today I stepped out of my comfort zone. I tried something different from my usual arsenal of weekly recipes, which is not to say that it’s bad or good, — it’s just different.