Middle of the week, crossing the hump, call it what you will, it’s still another excused fill day for me. Lots of promises to self made and not many fulfilled. Worries abound for my little brother, and all I can send out is a weak ray of pray up, hoping for a holy alley oop that will make it just another meaningless wednesday. But the wheels change slowly, and I wince open some hope. Lets see how long I can keep up the pain
It might get mundane to write the weekdays as titles rather than themes but then again, the changes in my life all now seem to just be part of who I am. What I mean to say is that what should be drastic life altering moments are now just almost an innate part of me and my life. Its like I might as well flip a coin and let probability rule my life rather than destiny. I am already petered out, hope to continue on a “normal” wednesday…
Only 2 days passed, and yet so much can change or happen in such a limited time. Things we count on can suddenly stumble and what was once a solid wall turns to shit mud around your ankles. The promise of relaxation an opiate to make you relax so you can be properly raped mentally. The loosening of that little guard we have all for that perfect harpoon hook. What is it about days that you dont expect much from or too much from that turn around and become the most significant in ways unimagined. I still relish the promises of friday and come Monday, only the promises remain but not the satisfaction. I am still in drive but stuck on nuetral. It is as if time stood still, and only my determination faltered but not the world.
Brain fart, will blog later
Its Friday, 90 degrees outside and many of us are probably counting the time down so we can be out there for a few hours to enjoy the some percentage of the rays for the day. Or maybe, a little burden lifts as the 2 days glint ahead, hinting at randomness or recklessness. I was always perplexed at the notion of TGIF but thats probably more due to the years of being an owner even though the stamp was in my head and not on any legal pieces of paper. Until recently that is. Now, each day seems like a day less to achieve more. Hours are spent now on how to expand, grow, be the brand on the brain for eyebrow threading. And on and on it goes, and instead of looking forward to Fridays, I dread them now because it means interrupted time. What used to be a vacation is now a flurry of rushed visits and quiet times but it does not feel real. I am torn between the love for work and the love in my life and the pillow of my family.
Juggling has become my hobby, holding on to my tasks my dharma. I hope that I dont get tired because the weekends arent for rest
It often comes at you in a way that seems obvious. Someone close to you experiences something that makes you go through all the phases of emotion. And poof, the day moves on and so do your emotions. What is about s that can make seem to act so callously, yet we all carry some sort of boulder on our back. And then we slither on, as if those images were a movie that we participated in for a minute, and then we wait for new previews. Or maybe better yet, all these are previews, and we dont bother remembering them because for us the movie is the real show. Thats what I tell myself when I realize time and time again how important certain things in life are, and yet I continually fail at recognizing them or dealing with them appropriately. It would probably make sense to give examples, but its better perhaps you do what I do: regret the past moments in those quiet times and rework them to your benefit. Or may that is big problem: too much imagination and not enough reaction. Either way, learning sucks, and I find that I spend more time sitting unlearning than actually gaining any real wisdom. Go figure
To be continued…
Whats the statute of limitation on failure? I mean, everytime I feel like I have gotten over a hill, it just turns up that all I did was climb up higher to fall down even harder. And then talking to others who so clearly see my idiocy makes me feel like I am not even human, that I am someone who has lost his own judgement so much so that I am better off being a pupper for others to pull strings on. The rage rises up for a second, and then something just pulls it inside, and I go quiet. And that seems to be my only weapon: silence, yet my weakness is my speaking. It is like I am being watched so I can trip again and again and again. How long do I pay for past mistakes or is because to others I am still alive. Is the death of my personality their victory prize?
I am weakening in my desolution but growing quite skilled at shutting up. I can relate to other who drop to despair because honestly it seems like no one gets the words coming out of my mouth. That I am just another exercise in social activity to get through. Just say hi to Sanjay, it doesnt matter what comes out of his mouth. Just do the deed. Show up and let him blather on. So silence now appears to be an appear, and words my poison. Perhaps it is better I drown myself in these little letters knowing that perhaps somewhere, someone may read beyond this white space. For now, the appearance is enough.