Lana feels

I'm lost. And scared to write. Scared because it seems that people take everything I say literally. Or at least, they do when they can take offense at it. No, I'm not talking about Tuesday's entry, because I take offense at that. At myself. At what I said, and how it came out, and how I obviously didn't take the time to read it before I posted it, or I certainly hope I never would have. Because as Lada points out, there is no glee in mass murder. But no fewer than three guestbook entries have concerned themselves with a generalization I made in the one following it. And that's just ridiculous, because when all is said and done, this is my diary, and I don't much feel like mincing words to avoid "sweeping generalizations" that might include people they shouldn't. So yes, I'm aware that what I said doesn't include everyone. It doesn't include me, it doesn't include Lila, it doesn't include lots of people. I was trying to make a point, that evidently didn't get across. But I'm done with it. Done with the entire topic, unless I find myself wanting to write more about it. For now, done. For now, living my life. Walking to biology in the morning, then french, then back to the dorm via the road and not the path, endlessly fascinated by Red Bluffs. Finding myself thinking, every now and again, how lucky I am to be here. To be in Colorado, to be at CRMS. To be in Chris' advanced bio class. To be tutoring little kids and hoping they won't grow up to be illiterate. To be, at all. These are the thoughts, that go through my head, in my backyard on a Sunday afternoon... And a Wednesday morning. Because the sky is the same blue it is in a picture I have from last year. Because nothing has changed. Because I'm so happy I could cry.