Black Crow, Gray Sky
2/19/2010 9:35 AM – 9:54 AM
It’s a solid gray out there today. I feel fine though. I sat. Successful as compared to the rest of my sits. My muscles are a little sore today. Which is good. Hopefully, they won’t be that bad when I’m working tonight. This morning is for filling out forms.
I’m getting antsy for running to start. The doctor’s office hasn’t called me back. I’ll need to get in touch with them soon. There is always that thin, reoccurring nag that I want to be left alone. It isn’t really true. Sometimes it is. There’s a bit of stupid within me that demand that the universe roll according to his whims. I suppose that one good thing about being poor is that it beats that fellow down quite a bit. Hell, I’ve only called into work due to being sick once since I started working there. And that was because I actually was sick. Maybe I have figured out how to work, finally. I don’t know. I was thinking about how if I went back to Houghton to finish my degree, I’d have to fill out that form and write those essays. I’ve written two novels. It shouldn’t be hard. But it seems daunting.
I haven’t worked on the novel this week. I’m have the odd sensation that I don’t really care about it that much. Which is crap. I get into it once I’m there. And If I could actually sell the thing, I might be able to pay some bills. Problem is, I’m not really sure how good it is. I like it, but I’m not excited to get back to it. Which doesn’t really prove anything. I’m not excited about much since I stopped having anxiety attacks. That’s the tradeoff. Doesn’t matter. How I feel about existence doesn’t change existence. It was more fun when I would have a soul-changing epiphany once or twice a week. But they didn’t actually change much. Going to work and getting paid. That changes things. Paying bills. That changes things. Lifting weights regularly. Running regular. They change things. Daydreams don’t change things. Exquisite visions of what it means to be human don’t change things. Washing dishes does. I’m afraid that I was right when I put on my cynics mask and proclaimed that, given multiple possible choices, the most boring one is probably right. Boring is what you make of it, some say. There’s truth in that. Lots of crap too. We seem to be around 85% machine. People that can change their attitude talk about changing your attitude. People that can’t don’t. A black crow flew across the gray sky in my window. It breaks up the monotony.
It’s a solid gray out there today. I feel fine though. I sat. Successful as compared to the rest of my sits. My muscles are a little sore today. Which is good. Hopefully, they won’t be that bad when I’m working tonight. This morning is for filling out forms.
I’m getting antsy for running to start. The doctor’s office hasn’t called me back. I’ll need to get in touch with them soon. There is always that thin, reoccurring nag that I want to be left alone. It isn’t really true. Sometimes it is. There’s a bit of stupid within me that demand that the universe roll according to his whims. I suppose that one good thing about being poor is that it beats that fellow down quite a bit. Hell, I’ve only called into work due to being sick once since I started working there. And that was because I actually was sick. Maybe I have figured out how to work, finally. I don’t know. I was thinking about how if I went back to Houghton to finish my degree, I’d have to fill out that form and write those essays. I’ve written two novels. It shouldn’t be hard. But it seems daunting.
I haven’t worked on the novel this week. I’m have the odd sensation that I don’t really care about it that much. Which is crap. I get into it once I’m there. And If I could actually sell the thing, I might be able to pay some bills. Problem is, I’m not really sure how good it is. I like it, but I’m not excited to get back to it. Which doesn’t really prove anything. I’m not excited about much since I stopped having anxiety attacks. That’s the tradeoff. Doesn’t matter. How I feel about existence doesn’t change existence. It was more fun when I would have a soul-changing epiphany once or twice a week. But they didn’t actually change much. Going to work and getting paid. That changes things. Paying bills. That changes things. Lifting weights regularly. Running regular. They change things. Daydreams don’t change things. Exquisite visions of what it means to be human don’t change things. Washing dishes does. I’m afraid that I was right when I put on my cynics mask and proclaimed that, given multiple possible choices, the most boring one is probably right. Boring is what you make of it, some say. There’s truth in that. Lots of crap too. We seem to be around 85% machine. People that can change their attitude talk about changing your attitude. People that can’t don’t. A black crow flew across the gray sky in my window. It breaks up the monotony.
posted by Spike at 6:57 AM
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