| Oct. 20th, 2008 @ 02:15 pm Monday Delight |
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On Site: Sacred Heart
Confirmed Mood:  Unweighted
Background Noise: This space intentionally left blank
Sometimes it feels like I've gone back to bad habits more times than I righted them. Sometimes I forget to wash my hands for a day. Sometimes I still wish I was five or six or seven or eight or any age where it was acceptable to still outwardly voice the opinion that we wanted to know what superpowers lurked within us all.
Sometimes, I'm alone. And maybe I'm in a crowded room (listening to Jack's Mannequin) or maybe I'm eating another unhealthy lunch, watching DVDs of TV shows about relationships much beyond the one I have and I can't help feeling like I am lucky to have met her. And how even though I can acknowledge that this time things are starting better than they ever have, I feel a superpower lurking beneath the surface, and I want it to go away. Because I can't stand the thought of having the free time I so greatly cherish, when the only thing I need right now is free time. I don't have free time because whenever there is a dull moment or a moment between shiny moments, we are less than a phone call away and she always knows the right time. Even when my clock is unplugged.
Sometimes, I am alone. And when asked how often I get writer's block I respond that I am either writing or not writing. When I sit down to write prose or poetry, I write it. When I do not sit down, nothing is written. Without spare moments to reminisce on the shiny moments, everything blends together into the worlds greatest smoothie, but it is still one smoothie. And I cannot stop to smell the roses, and I cannot stop to take a breath because I am in the middle of something that I know will be and is amazing. I am in a Whole New World, accepted as I am, and I love it. I love knowing that fortune is abound and hangouts materialize in front of me when I have nothing to do. I love improv.
Sometimes I am alone. And when hedonism brings you to rapture, why would anything else matter? Perhaps daily struggles are why the happy stay happy. I struggle so much more, but my struggles are mundane. I struggle to brush my teeth, to wash my hands, to call friends back, to turn in homework, to take notes in class, to be conscious, to eat, to sleep and in the end, my happiness remains unweighted. I am not normal, but no one is, so in saying that, I make no new insights into myself.
I often think. Maybe I should sit down and write about this, it might bear repeating. I often think that I should commit to paper or text message or internet or ear but I don't. I often omit the words that I have chosen in lieu of a simpler time, but that is no longer necessary. I often wish that we all had superpowers, but then who would be normal?
I have not washed my hands today. They bear the dust and dirt of yesterday's work, and I am reminded of what I accomplished. When I remember to wash them, I will, but that time has not come yet. You do not remember something just by thinking of it or just by writing about it, memory clings to the mind like the crud beneath your fingernails. It is visible, but you cannot reach it by the path that leads directly to it. To remember something requires you to scratch at it, go beneath the surface, and bring it back to the light of day. Even then, it clings to a new finger, hoping to be forgotten in the midst of its own excavation. |
Calm
Frustrated
Again?
Awake
Down
Sideways J Mouthed
Fine
Writerly
Sadenned