Today on the way home from work I tortured myself. A situation presented itself that I could have dismissed easily or let myself get hung up on. Overthinking is something that I guess I am prone to do, though, so I took the opportunity to torture myself over nothing. Just as we were pulling around the corner from work, a large white truck drove by in the direction we were headed. It looked like someone was moving. A black futon was partially disassembled in the back and there was a young woman sitting with it in the back of the truck. I couldn’t make out her face because she was turned the other way, but her size and shape, her hair and build and sense of style – even the white top she was wearing – made her appear to be … an old love of mine.
Author: Teel
Author, artist, romantic, insomniac, exorcist, creative visionary, lover, and all-around-crazy-person.
4/2/00
So many things go on between the beginning of one day and the end of the next. So many new things come to light. So many things are said by so many people in such a short time. So why isn’t every two days as interesting as this? I guess that would make it less interesting overall for these things to happen.
4/1/00
There is so much and so little going on right now in my life. I have a nice corporate job doing something that comes easily to me. I maintain a website that allows me to express myself creatively through its own design and through the content I am producing for it. I have some interesting friends and some regular social activities that prevent me from being alone all the time, but I have my own space and time to myself when I need it. Yet despite this and all my other ambitions, I often have hours of time in which I just try to figure out what I should do for those hours. I know I have things to do. I often know of specific things and activities that I need to get accomplished, yet that I do not do. I do not know why. They often seem to be “little” things. Things that I do not have a priority for me. For one reason or another, they are easy to put off. Things like putting the Copyright notice back on the site. Or re-working part of the JavaScript to make all the pages load a little faster and to make updating the site a little easier. Or like taking out the trash or doing the dishes. These are things that can be done later. They will wait. The world will keep on spinning and lives will keep on living and I will still be around to do them tomorrow.
3/28/00
I believe I am waiting. I believe I am waiting for Alison. For her to be ready or for her to figure out what she wants is not necessarily me. I know I am waiting for Sara. For her to get older, in years as well as as a person.
I am so tired. I ache. I do not know what it is about being me that makes me feel this way. I do not know what it is about being alive that makes me want so much to lay down and die. I have tears in my eyes and i am short of breath. I do not know why I am this way; I just am.
3/20/00
Today is a very long day. I am not sure that I believe that it is still Monday. Shouldn’t it be much later in the week by now? I was working so long and hard all weekend that it feels like the end of the week. Then again, on my 5x6x10 calendar, today IS the end of the week. Yet should the days off be at the beginning of the week or the end? I guess it is arbitrary. The beginning and the end are the same thing. Look at how it compares to the 7-day weeks most people use these days. Today is the first or second day of that week and the 5th of mine. I do not know why I feel like it should be the end of the week, except that I would like to sleep again tomorrow instead of waking up. I do not feel that waking up will be conducive to the sort of contented healthy goodness I want to feel; I want to just lay there drenched in warmth for hour after hour, day after day, rest and do nothing and see no one and catch up with myself. Catch up with myself. I think I need more time to myself, somehow. I do not know why I feel that I am not by myself just because there is someone in the next room or soon to be in the next room. I do not feel I can be myself when I am being someone else’s me? I thought I got over that. I thought I was myself. I guess there is more myself than there used to be, but that there are still parts of me that are tailored to the people around me. I am also still very aware of where the people around me are and what their opinions of … everything I can get from them are. mindreading has become second nature.