Showing posts with label thought process. Show all posts
Showing posts with label thought process. Show all posts

Monday, November 10, 2008

Lethargy

I don't know why I'm feeling the need to write again. Twice in three days is a lot of updating, even for me, but I'm sitting here trying to finish thoughts and all I keep getting is this scrunched-up-paper feeling in my chest, like there's something there that's trying to express itself, only the frustrated writer inside keeps messing up and wadding it up into a tight little ball, and flinging it into the trash. I've been feeling like this all weekend.

Restless, yet somehow unbelievably lethargic.

I've been trying to do a lot of things differently lately. Instead of allowing myself to get into situations that leave me tainted and guilt-ridden, I've been trying to live my life as an example to others. Instead of waking up in the morning and feeling grumpy and miserable about having to get out of bed and go to work, I've been trying to live each day as it comes and appreciate each one, as a gift from God. Instead of being cynical and pessimistic about everything, I've been desperately seeking the silver lining.

But sometimes - in fact, most of the time - I can't help feeling like my efforts are in vain. My life is not a good example for others to follow. I haven't been getting out of bed feeling ready to take on the day, and enjoy it. I have been feeling cynical and pessimistic about a lot of the same things.

Maybe that's where this restlessness is coming from; maybe I'm just impatient to start making a difference. I can't seem to help it. I just want to see the difference.

Thursday, November 6, 2008

How My Mind Works

Look up there, at the clouds. That one looks like a rabbit. No,
scissors.

I've noticed something. I don't think it's important.
Maybe it is.
Maybe nothing is.
Maybe nothing is as important as this.
When I watch TV, the volume has to be an even number, or else a multiple of 5.
Don't set the volume to anything else, I can't watch. I'll squirm and wriggle inside, and try and pretend to myself that it's 25, and not 19.

25 is my favorite number.
But

only for TV volume.

Stop touching me! Personal space!

I wonder if there'll be time to put in some laundry when I get home.
It'll be dark. Never mind then.

What do you call an obsession with the dentists?

I can't go on the roof if it's dark. They might be there.

It's not a heart-shaped stone. It's a stone-shaped heart.
...Of course there's a difference, silly.