The Girl went back to work today. She cannot make herself care. She hates the way most people define themselves through their jobs. It is just a job. People confuse having a job with having work. Work is important. Work matters. A job matters in so much as the rent must be paid and it is necessary to eat. Some people, although She don't know any, manage to find meaningful work and get paid for doing it. But most people go to their jobs every day and think, "They are paying me for this, so it must be meaningful." And the more they are paid, the more special they feel. The Girl? She cannot make herself care.

She once thought of her job as meaningful. But She has come to see it as a job. Others there try to make Her feel guilty for not caring. For not giving up her life in exchange for her job. "This," She wants to shout," is not my life! It is merely paying for my life!" But that would require that She care.

That isn't to say She doesn't do a good job. But She remembers...This is a job.

More meaningful was her recent trip down the Coochalowithee. The Coochalowithee is a small spring fed river near her home. In the early part of the century, the river was used and abused by phosphate miners. The University of State (US) purchased it and cleaned it up in the 70s.

To help pay for the river's up keep, US charges $5 to rent a floatie and another $5 to ride the floatie down the river. The water is a constant 73 degrees, which is very cold when the ambient air is 90. As clear and smooth as glass, the little river winds through cypress knees and under oak trees, past sand hills and lime rock caves. The Girl, the Boy, and Sang Su recently made the 3 1/2 hour trek. They were joined by turtles, fish, and a single snake. Comerants, hawks, and cranes flew overhead. Little ducks splashed in the tall grass. Somewhere nearby a woodpecker hammered at a hollow tree. The Girl enjoyed being rocked and swirled by the river. She enjoyed talking to Sang or the Boy as the water brought them together. She enjoyed the silence when they drifted apart. The canopy of the trees was replaced by the glare of the sun as the river pushed them forward. The water was deep and then shallow and then deep again. The cold ofthe water and the warmth of the sun penetrated her body. Rocked in the cold, sunny womb of her floatie. Utter peace. What could mean more than this?