Tag Archives: random thoughts
harmonie
I am amusingly forgiving in regards to my particular brand of overdosing. My brand of bingeing. My brand of self poisoning. My brand of the death march.
What am I doing on Earth? I wonder if I’m getting any closer to figuring that out. I seem to have been put here to confuse, hurt, and please people. I was put here to eat an inordinate amount of food, junk or otherwise. Just as long as it’s inordinate.
I was put here to watch an inordinate amount of tv. I was put here to be unproductive. I was put here to spend. I was put here to be sore in my left arm. I was put here to keep wisdom to myself.
Isolating should also be mentioned.
Listening to oodles of music from a variety of sources has been a lifelong pastime.
I have written some journals, I guess. They cover the gamut. Although there is certainly a lot of repetition.
When will I find out why I was really put here? Tonight? How’s tonight? Was I put here to help build and run a few restaurants? Was I put here to keep a house in order? I wonder if the 12 step program can elucidate these questions for me. It’s tricky though, isn’t it. I don’t give myself to this program. Maybe because it really is a tall order. It certainly isn’t what I have typically done in my lifetime, as a whole. I am more likely to do Mad Libs and eat chocolate til the wee hours than do the soul searching and higher power opening up necessary to be a program role model.
35, and counting
Being my birthday, it seems timely enough for a blogaroonie. I will quote from yesterday’s “feelings journal” entry.
Right now I’m a little tight, tightly wound. I spent the last few hours at home, alone, watching Clerks and taking a nap, eating tortilla chips and orange juice. I was entertained but still immersed in solitude. I was feeling okay, as far as I was aware. But I was also kind of walled in. I guess I chose to be in that isolated place. It feels familiar and safe. But it also tightens me. Now I’m aware of the tightness. Now that I’m sitting in the library at the Phil, writing, and in the vicinity of others, other warm bodies, warm personalities.
Then later I wrote this:
I finished the concert – it was a proud experience some of the time. I wore my earplugs to preserve my hearing, which was a comfort. At some point I guess a fragrance wafted to my nose which reminded me of my dear friend Rosalie S. The reminiscence was probably enhanced by the fact we were playing a Brahms symphony, one of her favorites. So for a few seconds I had that good feeling, good association. I actually tried to retain it, but it dispersed. I spent the later part of the concert partially beating myself up about my left hand tension. Perhaps ironic. Perhaps self-defeating.
So, the fact is I have been writing a fair amount, but privately. I don’t allot myself enough time to do that and blog. It requires a different mindset. It’s similar to playing the cello with or without an audience. I also feel different depending where I am when I write. Maybe I should try to relish all these differences instead of having my good ol’ buddy inside my head criticize my circumstances every step of the way.
originally published on 10/29/06
wherewithal
Mmm, it smells really good in here, like garlic ‘n friends. It’s warm for the cockles around here, with sleeping people and subdued lighting. I will be off to sleep soon, wide open to the truer workings of my soul.
I like reading my own previous blog entries once in a while. I’m glad I say what’s on my mind. It’s perfectly possible that I am the one most likely to benefit from my own thoughts. And I do, apparently. I haven’t been told by anyone I don’t think (possibly one person?), that my writings are benefiting them in any way. That’s okay. Perhaps that’s none of my business. Perhaps the people whom I benefit are precisely the ones who prefer to be private about their feelings. I can definitely respect that.
originally published on 4/17/07
Poor
I’ve been discussing with my friend the merits of different laptops. It’s a strangely entertaining topic. I guess I like tech-y stuff like cell phones and radios and dvd/cd burning equipment, blah, blah, blah. I don’t feel I’m very adept at it, though, but the rudimentary things are handy enough to grasp.
I have a small rash on my thumb. I don’t know if it’s a bite or what. It’s annoying.
I’m tired, in case you can’t tell. I should go to my mushy bed soon. There’s no particular reason to stay down here on the couch. I ought to also do my PM yoga, but will I?
I hope (you) don’t mind if I just make an entry.
originally published on 8/6/07
Burrs
I have enough shirts. There’s one deep dresser drawer, two closet shelves, a plastic bedside cubby, and various hung items. But I adore wearing new ones. Things just get old fast in my world. I need variety and unpredictability. But there are two problems: no room and no money. The room part would be solved if I did what I feel like doing, which is to get rid of anything less than a couple of months old. But these are perfectly good items. They only suffer from familiarity.
Some things improve with age. Appreciation of life’s many shades is enriched given time’s passing. Instruments become shaded and nuanced. Things of true beauty perhaps all improve, though there may be a breaking point where either enough is enough or decay sets in. I don’t consciously think about such issues, but I suppose I do make choices based on them. While I may think I’m going with my natural gut feeling about something, I could just be having some sort of knee-jerk, weirdly premeditated response to whether I perceive something as fresh and new and fun, or used and cliche and boring. It might only seem natural on the surface. Maybe that explains my new diet of the month, for instance, the Skinny Bitch. Is it great because it makes me feel better (both physically and ethically) or because it makes me feel different? This adoration of novelty is only part of how I make my choices, I know. I am (hopefully) using a complex assortment of drives, adding up to a given course of action. Unfortunately I err on the side of wishy-washy quite a bit, especially when no one guides me. I do better with a bit of nudging. I wish I liked being nudged…. It’s okay sometimes.
originally published on 10/18/07
Peel
Those who may befriend you will simply mirror your level of openness. They will quite aptly sense your propensities and determine from that whether to approach you. I probably don’t give people enough credit for being sensitive to the internal give and take in this world. Signals are constantly being passed around. But they are primarily not conscious.
I ought not bemoan a lack of friends or a lack of fun repartee in chance meetings during daily activities and errands. There is no reason to expect others to be more open with me than I am with them. Or differently open in ways I may yearn for. They do as they see and feel.
originally published on 7/14/08
Blanche
I realize that I have evidence of my recent assumption about the mirroring of those around me. I have friends who seem rather adept in social situations. But when we have discussed their comfort level socially, they tend to say the same thing I say, which is that they are uncomfortable and insecure. This is one reason why we are friends, because we are coming from the same place. And eventually we find our lives have many of the same properties, despite all the superficial differences.
Therefore I can see that, like it or not, seemingly or not, you draw your own ilk to you.
originally published on 7/15/08
Pontoon
I probably shouldn’t begin a blog at this ripe hour, but it’s been so long that I thought I’d at least give it a whirl. Hmm. C’mon, brain, do something. I have observed that I can have the kernel of an idea form in my mind, but to extract it out of its little corner is perhaps overly difficult. It feels like the parts of my brain in charge of different mental processes don’t know how to work with one another. Like the links between them have been zapped or something. It’s almost as if I’ve done drugs. I think I’ve avoided doing them specifically for just such risks. How annoyingly ironic.
I’ve been baking. That is a fun pastime. And tasty. I’ve been discovering the beauty of Teflon.
Maybe I should just sleep on it. I have been journaling privately. I start out writing letters to abusers, but it ends up being a more general sort of exploration of ideas. It’s a good place to springboard from, though. Nice and pithy, I think. A good way to get the old shovel out and start digging around in the graveyard of my mind.
Okay.
originally published on 10/10/08
Millview
Driven to distraction. There’s a funny expression. Maybe I should research its derivation. It might have something to do with the alliteration. It seems to presume that one’s natural state is non-distraction, which one leaves after some unpleasantries. I suppose it can happen that way. But I think life goes more frequently in the opposite direction. You reach the end of your distracted rope, thereby having no alternative but to find some kind of peace of mind and soul.
Or maybe distraction is considered a good thing in our society, and in this statement. You are driven there due to the evilness of boredom and peacefulness. Non-action is a risky thing.
There’s a fine line between doing things as an act of expression or a means of distraction. It’s easiest not to even know that there’s a difference. I think this non-awareness leads naturally to mindlessness and boredom. But if you are more attentive to your environment, you’ll find you do have a choice. A choice between doing things just for the sake of doing them, or engaging in an act of creation.
originally published on 6/28/09