Just a taste

Written last night at work:

so i’m writing this email because i’m at work and a little bit stuck. what to do? i’m not sure. how exactly am i stuck? do i even know? my mind is a jumble of thoughts, a tangled mess of thorns and dark places and probably some spiders if i dared look closely enough. i have been living my life with a limited purpose lately and i’m tired of it. simply tired. i go home every night drained of energy, of empathy, of even an ounce of concern for myself or anyone else in the world. that isn’t me. i shouldn’t be content to live like this continuously, day after day. things should change. where do i go to get away? i’d like nothing more than to set off on my own, destination unknown, and just go until it all makes sense, until i can breathe again, until my head stops feeling so thick and full. maybe this is the result of reading too much peart lately or maybe it’s Truth speaking to me through his words. the other day i found myself getting caught up in the reasons i’m here and realized that someday, all will be revealed and i’ll know that my toiled time wasn’t really toiled at all. i think maybe i think on these things too often and to too great an extent. perhaps that’s where the danger lies, in the thinking. in the processing. in the anticipation. in the hope. i have ceased wishing for things to happen and have begun simply praying to get through each day, sanity (or equivalent) in tact. i wonder how long it will take for me to put aside my memories of california and my coppery longing to be back there and embrace my new reality: i am here in this place now and will be until the next wind comes. get used to it. hold on tight, don’t close your eyes, and just get used to it.

So true, so true. In Ghost Rider, Peart talks about the “other guy,” the one that existed before all the tragic and senseless loss (child, wife, dog, best friend in jail — just like a country song, he bemoans) and how he is now faced with discovering the things he still likes. One day it started with the revelation that he still liked those two rocks in the lake that bordered his home. Then it was whisky, motorcycles, and birdwatching. Oddly enough, lately I’ve felt something similar thanks to all this reading. Yesterday I remembered that I love writing, reading, and reflecting. I found out that one of my favorite (although under-read by me) authors is a faculty member at a local university. I might have passed her while doing my grocery shopping. Intoxicating bliss. I felt my baby soul perk up, even if only for a brief moment, and it felt good.

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Posted on July 6, 2006, in Adventures with Sparkle Pants, All about Sparkle Pants, Bullet In the Brain-Pan, Sparkle Pants does Literature, Writer of fictions. Bookmark the permalink. Comments Off on Just a taste.

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