It's easy for me to remember this word in studying because it fits my mother to a T. Earlier on she had been making tacos for Scott, me and his son. She was happy that everything had been well with it.

As I was reading over photography forum posts, I heard her complaining in the trailer in the driveway. It's nothing new to hear her raising her voice about something. More often than not her and Scott make their best imitations of bullhorns, bantering the kinds of witty comments that always fall flat, that make them laugh at the grand knowledge they hold over whatever they refer to.

She was in impressive form tonight. At first I heard her complaining about how living with Gran had made me soft, that when she was a little girl she washed all the dishes, cleaned the rooms, rode herself to school and a littany of other "when I was your age" parables. Apparently she had expected me to do something which I hadn't done. At dinner she'd indicated that I could leave my plate near the sink. In times before, with past dinners, she had something similar. As it is, she had asked me to do nothing, yet now was complaining to Scott about how a list of household chores should be made.

She was just getting into her groove, though. At first I turned off the fan in the computer room, the motor whirrling down as her voice filtered through the evening. I cupped my ears and listened. She'd moved on to how much she had to do all the time, how little she was getting in compensation and that it didn't take into account her visits with Scott's mother (who is in a nursing home), and similar things. Eventually I turned the fan on to full blast and my headphones enough to drown out the fan. I still heard her. She'd been raising the bar. It was her night to raise hell and bitch it from the ground unto the earth itself.

I don't deal well with raised voices. I've always hated the way she snaps in and out of it at a moment's notice some time, or when someone overtly contradicts her. I hate how she can argue and bitch about whatever she wants in the voices she uses, yet I can never--not if I value the next hour in her company--never raise my voice or argue. Even if I could, I'd wouldn't. I've mentioned it before: the lack of control and rampant anger disgusts me. I almost never raise my voice to anyone. Why she pollutes the air with some complaint or argument every day--sometimes about such incosequential shit as Scott not liking dinner--I can't say. If she's left the house with me and some nasty shit has recently happened with Scott, she'll dive into explicit detail, speaking to the air or to me as if I were him--or any person that she had a conflict with in the past.

Hearing it still in the other room, I realize that I eventually need to get out of this place. I miss living by myself. More, I miss not having my space tied to the emotional instability of others. I can't stand it. I want to jump in my car right now and just drive for an hour. I've decided to write the rest of this instead, then do that. I can't stand it when the house grows this fungal leeching warmth of temple-throbbing anger.

Circumstances have been fucked up. I am here for a reason. Eventually, I will have a job, make money and be able to save--maybe live with roommates somewhere in LA.

For now, I have to go.

(approx. 1 hour later)

Good photoshoot at a random location. Took some shots of a row of store fronts and some statuery. Traffic was light through the area (thursday at 2:30am, go figure). A sheriff truck pulled around the island where I and the poseidon shrine were. I was surprised when they just passed by...and not so surprised when I saw the same truck about 7 minutes later pull up the street then back again. Usually I get stopped by police or security guards on late night sorties, but maybe they've run into our type before.

Since the PATRIOT act, photographers in America have occasionally been seen as 'suspect' people in 'suspect' situations. Only way to get slack from local law enforcement is to be cooperative and obliging. So far the cops and rent-a-cops I've run into have been decent about it. I think I break up the routine, maybe give them something to talk or joke about back at HQ or an eatery.

Dr. Zivago and I will probably be meeting tomorrow so I can get him caught up on the research and other situations. Hopefully that'll go well and he'll be able to help me out.

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