A New Day

Each morning I pray for a good day, and more often than not I manage to screw it up somehow.  And I think perhaps I am praying to the wrong person or just shifting the responsibility of my actions and emotions to someone else.  I know I am loved and cared for by many, however my choices in some areas can become problematic.  The past few weeks have taught me determination, and in some ways new habits that I hope to retain for the future.  I watch my money, I have begun working out, and I am trying to be a better boyfriend, and family member.  But its hard to begin when I have left too many things hanging out there, and even as I try to rein my days in, I am caught up with my past mistakes.  Its like I begin to run and my mistakes are standing in my path.  Sure, I can close my eyes, and pretend I dont see them, however reality always manages to trip me up.  

Dont get me wrong, I feel good about certain changes in my life, however I am still struggling with others.  And those are the ones that create so much anxiety, and I know once I deal with them I will feel better.  Or will I?  Is the path to victory based on rectifying past mistakes or is it recognizing that you are making excuses about bad behavior, and the only way to fix them is to do a hard stop.  Both seem appetizing when I am so down that even hoping seems like an exercise in futility.  And then small things will somehow come in my way.  A nice comment from someone unexpected, the joy of brushing my dog, and lately the triump of just getting things done.  

They all seem to help, but it still seems that I cant help myself or others.  That all this is just an illusion until the next time I fall into despair’s pit.  But I carry on.  I have to.  Too long I have given up, and not just not given a damn, and for far too long, I have been blaming my emotions when really its my actions at fault.  So each night, I go to bed, and wake up determined to pray for a new day, and hopefully, maybe, just a bit I will act the person I should be.



Another day comes to an end, and while there is definite satisfaction in still crossing out the things to do (including the blog), there is still the nagging feel that I am missing something.  That perhaps the to do list is just the mundane things, and the more important soulful things are still straggling around in my skull.  I mean when I take a quick took, I see a series of tasks, and some spattering of well meaning projects, but its still just things to get to in a matter of time.  Yet, life isnt like that, or is it?  i mean I wonder will there be a sense of purpose and maturity when I cross of the last item, or will it just time to fill up another page, and so on, and will that be my life, a series of crossed out phsical tasks?  

And so the questions swirl around me, and the tasks keep getting added.  And in there I have the hope that I can link my body to my soul and just be the person I see myself to be.  And I have to admit, in some ways, the task do feel good when I brush my dog, join the gym, and just hold Preeti as tight as can be.  And in those moments, it seems that I perhaps can be Barack Obama as well.  

Yeah, Yeah I know people actually like him.


To Do

It still surprises me that once you start doing the simple things, the harder things get simpler.  I am sure its all just my perception as I let things build up, and then reality hits.  Things I thought I were simple are in fact a lot harder, so my to do list constants shifts like my emotions.  Each time, I think I am on the right path, I am actually in the middle of the intersections about to get run over by reckless drivers of fate/inevitability.  

Each time, I brush off the dust (or think that I do) and begin at the foundations , it turns its made out of quicksand, and I sink deeper and deeper into inaction.  For each thought, there is a plan but no action.  And maybe its the opposite, there is an action but no plan, and so go my days.  

Some days I wonder if I know anything except bodily functions, and in other moments I feel like my pen can solve the pending to do’s in my soul.  Except, I end up back on this page, wondering incessantly when will it get better? When will I truly learn? When will I become the man I envisioned myself to be in high school?  Or am I just a cup full of promises, and empty of any real decisions? 

But still I write out the to do’s on a piece of paper, and I gaze at it and wonder if I cross out everything on that page, will I find the answers to my life?   I keep asking, and my writing just looks at me, giving me no answers, and certainly no comfort.  

All I have are these thoughts of mine, and lately some have managed to even make those feel childish and or worse whiny.  Which they are but thats not the point.  They still belong to me, and for that I wish some respect.  One can always hope, cant they?