these are the days I wake up and immediately list who needs to fuck off
itís not pretty. coffee helps. If my mother knew sheíd be horrified.
if people knew what I was thinking most of the time theyíd all be horrified.
well thatís what I think anyways.
at four am I read this entire thread
and, my girl Linzy went viral while I slept.
d-day came and went; nothing has changed yet other than the direction of the chemical flow in my brain;
†sneeze one, sneeze two, the blood pressure rises as the silent person next to me asks over and over again when we can leave.
those brain chemicals did a number indeed. Repetitive versions of my story Ė my excuses Ė abound.
The facts indeed indicate that both sides of the story are true: mine and theirs.
only in the world we live in, only theirs will count.
but my joy mantra returned quietly, under breath, under oath, under a few clicks of emails,
a mantra which reminds me that the world is not black and white; that adversity makes me stronger; that all humans are flawed; that there are multiple ways out of a given situation and that if I have to find one of them, I will.
†so on this dark morning, with my ringing ears, I shall dress myself for fall, leave some crumbles in a bed,
and push myself into an office on the sixteenth floor to sit pretty, smile pretty, and take their best punches like the trooper that I am.
Here I am again
whirling thoughts sifting across the surface of a brain with low sugar
some more mildly OCD than others;
the singing ringing in my ears only slightly dimmer than the hum of the force-air heater,
the muffled ladies on the cbc are losing out in this audio-battle
but words like ďKavanaughĒ and Ford seep out over the piles of dishesÖ
In other news.
weíre discussing useful things about ENTJ in context:
how much we hate uncertainty:
and how much we need to control the social norms
I spent a long night with
Barbra carpinetti, in a tent, while her baby slept
in the morning I had forgotten my keys
I arrived at my high school graduation
I bought a fancy plastic glass of champagne shaped like a rose; I needed it;
it was not full;† I signed the list and paid my 32 bucks anyway;
I was emotional over seeing Christine bayard;
and explained to Julie how Iíd likely not cross her path again
then Julie and I examined Kim Sterlingís white lab coat of sorts
it had a police type logo and round collars.
My dream mind was 53, not 17 however,
so I pondered her unusual career choice from the perspective
of someone nearing the end of her career, not a peer.
then I parked the car in the same recurring parking spot near the poles
which donít even exist in real life. Why would a mind create a parking spot.
I did not really get to my career goal, in that sense.
itís early. very early. itís dark† Iím awake.
the morning smell of winter hangs in the air.
†that smell signals the long cold dark months of spending a lot of time inside
with our thoughts, our dreams, and each other.
Now back to my thoughts.
the elusive ones that escape me after Iíve written down a dream;
the ones which seep thru the ether of my mind as Iím pouring the last of the coffee that andrea made; and as Iím stirring the last of the sugar, imagining the sucrose dissolving in the hot liquid, pass through me before I can get to the laptop. It was a good one. Now where did it go.
Itís a very rare day that I
get to the early coffee well-rested
and still forget what I wanted to write.
I was arguing about tenants and landlords
I was missing andrea
I was googling mitch mconnelís net worth
I was thinking about winter
and the anatomy of a dream
and how a long dream is sort of like winter
where you wake up out of a fog
and wonder which of the two is reality
in these dark quiet moments
I can relive my entire life in a flash
one whiff of winter air can summarize a lifetime of winter culture
while the darkness always brings me back to El Segundo
which was to this day, for me, darkness embodied,
in such a sunny place.
I never could have imagined that it would have been my darkest hour.
And I concede defeat; the
thought which was crystal clear
I just want things to be
I am ENTJ.
Uncertainty gives me cognitive dissonance.
there are† some small places cleaner than others
the† fridge is clean for example
as is the ceilings; washed ;† the Tupperware aligned;
but itís not inspirational
when everything is clean
a throbbing head but awake poot darts her eyes from the brightening glow under window
coverings to the failing battery life of this device;
fingers squarely aligned for touch typing;
ears gladly ringing Ė oscillating to the pulse of this beating heart.
one thing is clean: itís a
everything else is a fucking mess.
we need to get the shoulders down:
†keep talking to the ENFJ:
focus on what is good:
and pick wisely.
good morning internet.