Thoughts from Spring Break.

The view is Escondido or, more specifically, the "backyard" of the Veldkamps' house. Vineyard, pool, hot tub, mountains, palm trees, sun, breeze, birds and so forth. Birds of paradise is right; they're everywhere. We will pack up and head back east tomorrow morning, amidst a flutter of arguments, protests and bickering on who will sit where, and in which car. I've been told the snow has all but melted back in Sioux Center--a town I've come to love and defend--and even that recent dusting (that, reportedly, hasn't stuck to the ground) is of no significance. Leaving California's steadily bronzing sun will be unpleasant, but there is no journey or location without the varying levels of individual context.

For example, in reading through Eugene O'Neill's play Long Day's Journey into Night, one suggestion is that being in love is not the same as being happy. The state, or condition, of one should not imply the other... though having both is assumed in how we've grown... in how I've grown to understand it... thus far.

This theme casts a light upon everyone I see. It's enough to occupy my mind though, in many ways and for many reasons, I wish it weren't.

My heart swelled with emotion during various individual images and words of the Academy Awards tonight. Now, I'm listening to Lady Gaga's Bad Romance. Would you like to fight about it?

I dreamt that I had a snowball fight with Dave and Jeri Schelhaas as we were leaving a dinner party.

I dreamt that Bailey, Val and I were in an expensive room, dressed to the nines as they used to say. Caviar on the table. I've never had caviar, and Bailey and I indulged until we saw Val wasn't eating, her mouth set to a stern pout and her arms crossed against her gown. Our gentle pleading escalated to anger and throwing china. The crystal chandelier shattered and blood spilled.