Well, I have one good friend left, and she is coming over today. She says she can't wear a mask because "it makes my glasses fog up." I have never personally had this happen to me, and I have been wearing glasses since 13, and I was in healthcare for years. Maybe I am a lighter breather...

I am thinking of an interesting corollary to Descartes famous dictum "Cogito Ergo Sum" (I think because I am), where Descartes demonstrates that even if a malignant creature like the Devil is deceiving him, then he at leasts know there is something to deceive--hence he knows he exists. Maybe that is why in times of crisis like this where everyone is isolated, or in times of just general crisis or lack of confidence in leadership, people tend to multiply conspiracy theories or who the current devil de jour is: since large disasters tend to make people feel they have disappeared amongst the giant forces clashing and forming the realities of the day, reminding themselves of who they are being fooled by, or what forces beyond their control they are being manipulated by, reminds them that they exist?

What's really frightening is when, after years of self-reflection, which you have a lot of time to do when you are a caretaker, after years of it you realize that the greatest deceiver of yourself was you; and after that revelation you either characterize yourself as the devil, or a relatively innocent bystander vulnerable to all the unsavory attitudes and influences of the day, and you begin to either hate your evil or rue your naivete. You have to wonder those who completely blame themselves: is that really accurate of just narcissistic? Who really controls their destiny like God creating the heavens, or an artist creating a canvas on film or with paint? Nobody has those kind of powers; there are plenty of things the dictator cannot control, and god knows he has more control over the overall situation, at least more than anyone else unless he/she is mad.

Sometimes I feel that I don't know the past person; I made so many mistakes that its almost as though I were trying to sabotage myself, which I guess is just suicide lite, which feels almost more cowardly than suicide, as though I want to end it all without drama and without leaps of eraser-faith. Sort of what they call crawling into a corner and dying.

But the one great thing about being inside a personal revolution; it's very hard to go into a corner and collapse and give up, precisely because you constantly are questioning just exactly what giving up is, and you aren't even sure what you were previously--if it all was a misunderstanding of yourself or human nature, and that one day you will wake from the dream and find everything was fine, sort of like being taken from the middle of traffic into pentacostal ascension.

Of course, the dream you wake from could be life itself. I guess everyone wakes from that dream eventually...