Author: Teel

Author, artist, romantic, insomniac, exorcist, creative visionary, lover, and all-around-crazy-person.

My fingers seem to be numb…

[post transcribed from a paper journal]

My fingers seem to be numb, my writing a little slow; perhaps I should start wearing warmer clothes than a T-shirt and shorts. I noticed, as I rode my bicycle slowly to school (slowly only to reduce the speed of the brisk wind against my unprotected face and hands) that it was beginning to get colder and colder each morning, and that my hands were sending less and elss messages to my head. Perhaps, I thought as I began to lose not only vital feeling, but simple motor control, there should be something done to protect myself from the approaching winter. But how could I do this? Should I wear gloves, and if I do, will it help at all? In the past, my gloves have been ineffective until I have cycled several miles down the road, and now I have only about one mile to ride; should I don my gloves a few minutes or hours before I leave my home? Should I consider moving to the Saharan Desert, where it is nice and warm all year ’round, and I don’t need to worry about buying warm winter clothes? I have been planning on it, actually; as soon as I can afford it, I’m hoping to move to, if not the Saharan Desert, somewhere without a winter or a lot of humidity. I LOVE a dry heat, and even a dry cold seems out to get me.

Reality for lease by owner

[post transcribed from a paper journal]

In an effort to sublet my portion of reality, which I do not use full-time anyway, I have had my legal department draw up some papers for a time-share lease on my allotment of reality. So then, I have to market it, find an appropriate buyer that will pay the right price and not misuse or unuse it. Which means that at this point, either I give the project to my marketing department, or I use my networking power to have some of my high-paid, high-power friends suggest someone which might fit well into my reality when I’m not using it, who would be capable of maintaining their relative sanity from the seemingly odd perspective of my reality. Of course, the main problem is not (necessarily) that my reality is enough to drive a man insane, but rather that to the untrained individual, living in a reality not their own is highly disorienting, even to the point of relative insainty, although my specific reality would drive even the most trained & experienced mind at least a little insane. So, if YOU know anyone with a high income and a strong mind that might like to sublet my reality, please say something.

Is happiness worth the pain?

[post transcribed from a paper journal]

I find that in my pursuit of happiness, a lot of the things that will lead me to my future happiness, or that would end a lot of my current pain are things that right now cause me more anguish and sufferring than I’m sure the happiness is worth. Of course, since I have had little to no experience with happiness in the past; an isolated incident here or there, never sustained or supported; so I’m just not sure that it’s something I really want in my life. I have been told that happiness is great, that happiness makes your life better, that I should be happy, but as I do more and more to be happy, my life is becoming less and less stable, more and more painful and troublesome, and although there’s a promised future of peace and calm, I’m not sure that it’s worth the trouble. Then again, I wonder whether happiness is better than I know. With my inexperience in this area, it is not too far a leap that I am wrong, that happiness is so wonderful that it is worth any pain that stands in its way.

I hope I decide soon; indecision here is causing even more pain than sticking to it will, and makes the decision even harder.

A shift in relations.

[post transcribed from a paper journal]

And so, as one day twists and turns and flips about desperately attempting to avoid the chilling grip of the coming night. As winter approaches, the vigor of the day, fighting as it has for the last six months against the night, is now dissipating and growing weaker. The night; cold, clear, crisp, and elegant; will grow longer and longer, colder and colder, darker and darker as the days become too weak and submissive to have much sway against the night except to make an indirect, cold light.

The days seem hopeless and unwilling to make the effort to appear again tomorrow, and as a sickly child would, grow paler every day; weaker. Knowing, as it always does, that winter is its death, the days make a final attempt at warmth whilst the night grows colder, taking frozen bites from the weakened heels of the morning. No longer will night allow itself to be the submissive partner in their ongoing relationship, but as the night works towards equality, the day sees itself losing power and gives up completely; still part of the relationship, but no longer making an effort for their combined success.

There it goes…

[post transcribed from a paper journal]

As all things that are must do, it is ending. Not that it will be noticed when it is gone, for it will not be there to notice. Perhaps there will be someday something that they feel has taken its place, but because it will be gone, any replacement will have been ill formed and imperfect; not much like it at all. However, as a result of the impracticalities of referring to something that is no more, that which replaces it will take its name and its place in their lives; no thought will be given to the existence of something before that which has replaced it. In this way it is shown that in the minds of living things (whose memories are far too short to see what is really going on) change can not truly exist.