Sunday, July 3, 2011
boo.
I just wrote a huge essay on here about how I'm afraid to express myself on the internet, and now I just took it down because I'm afraid to express myself on the internet.
Monday, June 6, 2011
What's the buzz all about?
I had a really great weekend these past few days. I spent a lot of time with Kate, ate a lot of good food, played music, danced, exercise, and overall felt very satisfied.
I feel like it really deserves an entry of its own, but I had a powerful experience yesterday (saturday) in regards to channeling energy. I don't know that I can write it all now, but I made a voicenote on my phone right after it happened, explaining it.
Basically, I was able to find a way to vibrate my body at a controlled frequency, and increased that vibration to a point where I almost lifted from the ground. It was cool but frightening, I was afraid that I would damage myself (more mentally than anything else).
I want to try it again, not with the intention of trying to fly, but just to see if I can replicate that energy conduit, and the dialing in of the vibration to a frequency. I feel like the key to understanding what's going on lies somewhere growing comfortable with physically engaging in an action the idea of which runs counter to the logic of our accepted reality.
Also, my dreams have been more vivid since, and I have had "kundalini-type" energy, twisting throughout my body as well.
I feel like it really deserves an entry of its own, but I had a powerful experience yesterday (saturday) in regards to channeling energy. I don't know that I can write it all now, but I made a voicenote on my phone right after it happened, explaining it.
Basically, I was able to find a way to vibrate my body at a controlled frequency, and increased that vibration to a point where I almost lifted from the ground. It was cool but frightening, I was afraid that I would damage myself (more mentally than anything else).
I want to try it again, not with the intention of trying to fly, but just to see if I can replicate that energy conduit, and the dialing in of the vibration to a frequency. I feel like the key to understanding what's going on lies somewhere growing comfortable with physically engaging in an action the idea of which runs counter to the logic of our accepted reality.
Also, my dreams have been more vivid since, and I have had "kundalini-type" energy, twisting throughout my body as well.
Wednesday, June 1, 2011
making plans.
So I've decided that being more regimented about creativity is a good thing. Writing our 15 of free verse in the morning, and then writing a journal entry at night is a great habit. Then in a month (1/2 way through the year), we'll start revisiting previous entries and reflect in a vlog. Also, one short a week. Brainstorm and shoot wednesday, edit thursday, post on Friday.
We need to always have something cooking. So while these are staples, we still have to do our work: school, professional assignments, but I think it's important to remain in motion.
Lots of content, let's just produce!!! Have some fun.
We need to always have something cooking. So while these are staples, we still have to do our work: school, professional assignments, but I think it's important to remain in motion.
Lots of content, let's just produce!!! Have some fun.
Thursday, May 12, 2011
Monday, January 10, 2011
Don't read or read into this.
I feel like dying.
I really just wanted to write those words down because they won't get out of my head. And the more I think about them without writing them down, the worse I feel. I feel bad for feeling that way. Bad for not expressing myself. Just bad, bad, bad.
Sometimes I feel like making this journal private, but nobody reads it, so it doesn't matter. I wish people who didn't know me read it. I wish I could reach out in the darkness and connect to random strangers. I'm so afraid of people judging me, of the people I know finding out how I really feel, how weak I really am. I'm afraid of people getting tired of my whining.
When did I become so self-conscious?
I'm so frustrated and stressed. My writing is awful. Seriously, it's so terrible I don't even want to take a look at it. I haven't even made it past page 5, and I would rather chop off fingers than try to type any more. It doesn't make sense, I don't even know what I'm trying to say with the story anymore.
I feel like I've fucked myself over so bad that I won't be able to come back. I'm starting to have a panic attack, but in slow-motion. Suffocating week by week.
I didn't go to lecture tonight so that I could write. Instead I made chicken fajitas, sat in front of the computer for a few hours and have about a page and a half to show for it.
I WANT TO PUT A GUN IN MY MOUTH AND END THIS.
Why does typing that make me feel better? It shouldn't. It should make me feel worse. It does, but in a different way.
I'm so tired of feeling this...
I really just wanted to write those words down because they won't get out of my head. And the more I think about them without writing them down, the worse I feel. I feel bad for feeling that way. Bad for not expressing myself. Just bad, bad, bad.
Sometimes I feel like making this journal private, but nobody reads it, so it doesn't matter. I wish people who didn't know me read it. I wish I could reach out in the darkness and connect to random strangers. I'm so afraid of people judging me, of the people I know finding out how I really feel, how weak I really am. I'm afraid of people getting tired of my whining.
When did I become so self-conscious?
I'm so frustrated and stressed. My writing is awful. Seriously, it's so terrible I don't even want to take a look at it. I haven't even made it past page 5, and I would rather chop off fingers than try to type any more. It doesn't make sense, I don't even know what I'm trying to say with the story anymore.
I feel like I've fucked myself over so bad that I won't be able to come back. I'm starting to have a panic attack, but in slow-motion. Suffocating week by week.
I didn't go to lecture tonight so that I could write. Instead I made chicken fajitas, sat in front of the computer for a few hours and have about a page and a half to show for it.
I WANT TO PUT A GUN IN MY MOUTH AND END THIS.
Why does typing that make me feel better? It shouldn't. It should make me feel worse. It does, but in a different way.
I'm so tired of feeling this...
Thursday, January 6, 2011
OUCH.
Where's ET when you need him? I'm in awful pain. My back just spasmed and I collapsed in the kitchen. I guess I lifted too much at the gym today. 160lbs on the V squat isn't a whole lot. My back is just that weak, i guess. not even a back exercise. I'm sorry, I can't write a proper entry it hurts so much. I have a muscle relaxer and 2 codeine pills headed into my blood stream, so i'm likely to pass out soon anyway. I just wanted to adhere to some semblance of this schedule of mine.
Thursday, February 12, 2009
I will what I will.
I spend a lot of my time thinking, over-thinking, and analyzing. Its interesting to me that I can take so much time to weigh and measure, and yet still feel like I am someone who "accepts" things readily and lives in the moment.
I've come to a realization- something I've thought about many times before but never really paid attention to - so many of my thoughts and actions are responses to potential reactions of other people. Very often I limit myself, or present myself in a different way based on who I'm around and how I want them to think of me. This isn't new. I've always sort of prided myself in my ability to be a social chameleon. I'm finding, however, that it's coming at the expense my individuality.
Very few people know the me that I know, the one I'd like to show in all situations.
I had made the resolution some months back to be "unapologetically me." And while I have grown fond of that idea, now I believe I have the confidence to actually integrate the ideology into my life.
I'm tired of this fractured understanding of who I am. Rather than have only a glint of my true personality shine through a situationally affected character, I want to shine as myself constantly, and compromise only slightly as the situation requires.
It's time to make myself happy based on what I want and need. If who I am and how I act doesn't fit with someone else's idea, that's fine. Just don't expect me to change.
Its funny, as I look back on my life, the younger I was, the less I really cared what other people thought of me. Age makes you self-conscious, and that's a deceit I do not desire.
Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry
I've come to a realization- something I've thought about many times before but never really paid attention to - so many of my thoughts and actions are responses to potential reactions of other people. Very often I limit myself, or present myself in a different way based on who I'm around and how I want them to think of me. This isn't new. I've always sort of prided myself in my ability to be a social chameleon. I'm finding, however, that it's coming at the expense my individuality.
Very few people know the me that I know, the one I'd like to show in all situations.
I had made the resolution some months back to be "unapologetically me." And while I have grown fond of that idea, now I believe I have the confidence to actually integrate the ideology into my life.
I'm tired of this fractured understanding of who I am. Rather than have only a glint of my true personality shine through a situationally affected character, I want to shine as myself constantly, and compromise only slightly as the situation requires.
It's time to make myself happy based on what I want and need. If who I am and how I act doesn't fit with someone else's idea, that's fine. Just don't expect me to change.
Its funny, as I look back on my life, the younger I was, the less I really cared what other people thought of me. Age makes you self-conscious, and that's a deceit I do not desire.
Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry
Sunday, February 8, 2009
Rambled Understanding
A schism. A division of infinite depth and recursion. Everything separates in order to recombine. Atoms, thoughts, people. What is the atomic weight of words? An omnipresent mass of cognition. Each thought in our heads is made up of pieces of fractured sensory input. Strings and conglomerations and wisps of those thoughts fire off in sequences that give our minds a sense of self-awareness, a consciousness. We are conscious because we are aware of our thoughts. But there is an order above us. Our minds are pieces of a larger consciousness. Our power of perception as individuals is dwarfed by the power and purpose of the whole. Together, we all perceive the physical world, set a baseline understanding of color, shape, taste, sound, but this is not just for our own edification. R.A. Wilson said that, "[Humans] are sensory organs the Universe created in order to perceive itself." Our modalities exist not to serve our consciousness, but to relay that information elsewhere; we are to the universe what eyes are to us.
And so it goes, just like that, on up the chain.
As above, so below, and "It's turtles! Turtles all the way down."
And so it goes, just like that, on up the chain.
As above, so below, and "It's turtles! Turtles all the way down."
Saturday, January 10, 2009
Take off and absentia.
It's been a while, but that's how it usually goes with me. I am horribly inconsistent with blog upkeep, especially when I know that no one is reading. Why is that, that I am more compelled to write for an audience than I am for myself? I think that's interesting, and very telling of what kind of person I am.
I'm transitioning, though. 2008 was a deciding year for me, a baseline where I determined what I would do and how I would approach my career; a jumping off point if you will. Well I've jumped. I am in the air and flapping my arms, and thanks to a few updrafts, I'm learning how to fly. 2009 is going to be full of hard work, but it is already the most rewarding year of my life, and I'm not even halfway through the first month!
So my apologies for the absence, but I've been formulating plans and hatching plots. Things are afoot now, balls are rolling, and I'm living my life with gratitude and determination. I plan to make entries here a more regular occurance; perhaps if I become a part of, or cultivate some semblance of community here I'd be more inclined...until then i'll have to wait for situations like today, where I'm in a coffee shop while my car's oil is being changed, and I have little else to do.
Be on the lookout, though. A website for my professional writing is in development and in all likelihood this blog will be fed into there.
Ciao!
Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry
I'm transitioning, though. 2008 was a deciding year for me, a baseline where I determined what I would do and how I would approach my career; a jumping off point if you will. Well I've jumped. I am in the air and flapping my arms, and thanks to a few updrafts, I'm learning how to fly. 2009 is going to be full of hard work, but it is already the most rewarding year of my life, and I'm not even halfway through the first month!
So my apologies for the absence, but I've been formulating plans and hatching plots. Things are afoot now, balls are rolling, and I'm living my life with gratitude and determination. I plan to make entries here a more regular occurance; perhaps if I become a part of, or cultivate some semblance of community here I'd be more inclined...until then i'll have to wait for situations like today, where I'm in a coffee shop while my car's oil is being changed, and I have little else to do.
Be on the lookout, though. A website for my professional writing is in development and in all likelihood this blog will be fed into there.
Ciao!
Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry
Sunday, June 29, 2008
Flow
It's the cool confidence that glides through life.
Fire, water, wind, and earth are all liquids on some level.
Obstacles are merely shifts in perspective.
There is always enough.
Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry
Wednesday, May 28, 2008
Return To Sender
My hair is curly, swirling in and out of my eyesight. It's gray outside, like the clouds were made of nothing in particular. I feel like I could smile if I had to, but my face is tired and I'm saving my future self from those silly wrinkles. The honeymoon is over.
In a few blinks I'll be back home, like I never left. Only I did, and the me that's coming back is someone else. Still recognizably me, but version 3.5 or 9.1- all the best, without the shit that never worked.
Peace and love. See you soon.
Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry
Tuesday, May 27, 2008
There's Clarity in them thar hills!
It's my last full day here in England, and I'm not sure how I feel exactly. I accomplished everything I wanted to get out of this vacation and more, so I'm not disappointed in the least. I guess I'm a little excited to get home, sort out my house now that construction is finished, see my puppy. and get back to my "real life," but there's a part of me that's already planning my next trip.
I suppose it's natural, though it does feel like I'm being a bit escapist. It's not that I don't want to return to work, or Los Angeles, or anything like that, no, it's more like I just don't want to have to think about all of those little annoying things that come with everyday living. It's not possible, outside of eschewing material possessions and relegating myself to a nomadic life, I know, but it's nice to dream.
It always gets like this for me at the end of a vacation, though. Muddled thoughts and feelings, my mind trying desperately to cling to the insights gained from the time spent away from all the bullshit, the regulated minutiae of my other life- my non-traveling one- slowly creeping back to pester me like a persistent cold...
I think indifference is a state of being for me that comes most often during an overcast day. When I arrived here in England it was rainy and gray, and here as I'm preparing to leave it isn't all that different. I've been fortunate, though, being the child of climate that I am, that Paris and Brussels were brighter on the whole, if not the weather, the people surely.
But it's been good. No doubt, this has been an amazing journey. I have many memories, and pictures to boot. I have grown tremendously, and happily so. I realized and reclaimed something on this trip that I used to have when I was younger, and had been very troubled to have lost: an unapologetic sense of self. I know who I am right now, and I don't care who likes it or not. I am going to be me, crazy or sad, manic or pensive, I will be who and what I feel in the moment I feel it. It doesn't matter if it's contradictory, it's true.
As long as I'm happy, it's good. Yea, it's good. ^_^
I suppose it's natural, though it does feel like I'm being a bit escapist. It's not that I don't want to return to work, or Los Angeles, or anything like that, no, it's more like I just don't want to have to think about all of those little annoying things that come with everyday living. It's not possible, outside of eschewing material possessions and relegating myself to a nomadic life, I know, but it's nice to dream.
It always gets like this for me at the end of a vacation, though. Muddled thoughts and feelings, my mind trying desperately to cling to the insights gained from the time spent away from all the bullshit, the regulated minutiae of my other life- my non-traveling one- slowly creeping back to pester me like a persistent cold...
I think indifference is a state of being for me that comes most often during an overcast day. When I arrived here in England it was rainy and gray, and here as I'm preparing to leave it isn't all that different. I've been fortunate, though, being the child of climate that I am, that Paris and Brussels were brighter on the whole, if not the weather, the people surely.
But it's been good. No doubt, this has been an amazing journey. I have many memories, and pictures to boot. I have grown tremendously, and happily so. I realized and reclaimed something on this trip that I used to have when I was younger, and had been very troubled to have lost: an unapologetic sense of self. I know who I am right now, and I don't care who likes it or not. I am going to be me, crazy or sad, manic or pensive, I will be who and what I feel in the moment I feel it. It doesn't matter if it's contradictory, it's true.
As long as I'm happy, it's good. Yea, it's good. ^_^
Monday, May 26, 2008
I'll take "These Are The Days" for 2000, Alex.
Hannibal used to say, "I love it when a plan comes together," and while I echo the sentiments forged in that classic A-Team line, this weekend in Brussels came out something more to the tune of "I love it when an unplan comes together."
Oliver and I woke up on Thursday and wondered what we should do for the weekend. We researched Dublin, Edinburgh, Cardiff...nothing was working. "What about taking a ferry to Belgium?" I said without much earnest. Within 30 minutes, travel and lodging were booked and the planning ended. The weekend was unplanned, and everything just fell into place.
So I arrived in Brussels without any expectations, actually without even a plan not to have expectations. I left utterly pleased. So many of the happenings would have been fine on their own; standalone events, emotions, thoughts of enjoyment. But the fact that they occurred all at once, or in succession really, is what made this past weekend unlike any other. The most pleasing outcome of it all, I would have to say, though, was my ability to be comfortable with myself and my actions, to command the moment, experience life without attempting to control it, and really, truly own the space of my life.
To briefly recount my final night in Brussels might take longer than I'd like to spend, so I'll make a passing attempt at brevity and do my best to sum up (I'll need to start by no longer allowing myself these sprawling sentences that say so little).
We got dressed in our best and headed to the city center to try some typical Belgian cuisine at a restaurant suggested to us by the nice, young Greek woman we met at breakfast. Oliver had rabbit stew and sausages had I, and we relaxed on the open patio and drank a few wonderful liters (yes, liters) of beer as we listened to the free live music. And as luck would have it, who should walk by but the girls we met at breakfast! So we made plans to meet up later. Oliver and I finished our beverages and went up close to allow our eyes and ears to feast on the delight that was "The Crazy Mess Groovers," an 8 piece array of loud-suited Frenchmen with names like "Mr. Deebeedeebop" and "Mr. Creamy," fronted by a skinny fop in suspenders who could really belt it out. We met up with the ladies (Sophia the Greek and Hanne the Belgian) midway through the set and got swept away in the music. And then the rain came. It was magical. To dance in the rain, in a place I've never been, to music I've never heard, with people I'd never met before...to do all that, and feel 100% at home in my skin. The night didn't have to get any better, but it did.
We met up with some of Sophia's male friends (who were less than pleased to meet us, but made an effort to appear otherwise nonetheless) and we ended up at this small South American, Che Guevara-themed bar who's walls were covered in Sharpie art, open to any patron with a desire to wax philosophical. Naturally, there was a sort of tree diagram on one wall, and printed defiantly in block letters, asserting masculinity, were names of classic films. Names like Predator, Total Recall, Rocky, Over The Top. I may never understand the science behind it, but there on the wall it just made sense. In any case, after a few drinks (two pints of 8.5% Duvel for me) the live salsa music called for dancing, so dance we did. Lucky for us, we can dance, and also lucky for us, so could our ladies!
Afterwards, we wound up at a nightclub for more drinks (how am I, who never drinks, still standing? Perhaps it was the hearty Belgian meal), more dancing, and in all likelihood kissing and some heavy petting. For some reason, I wasn't thinking about the details of life. Maybe it was booze, or mania, or a combination of that and a natural high, but I felt good, I was happy, and that was all that mattered. The night eventually turned into morning as it has a habit of doing, and though what else transpired is clear as crystal to me, I shall leave it foggy for you. In any case when we woke up, the four of us had brunch on the rooftop terrace of the Museum of Musical Instruments. It was delicious, delightful, and despite getting a little rained on (again), it was a dream.
And then it was time to leave.
We said our goodbye's to each other and parted ways. I said goodbye to Brussels, but hello to a new confidence, and welcomed fond memories of a trip unplanned.
P.S. Did I mention the girls were the only people we met who didn't smoke, and just happened to have European Master's degrees in Exercise Physiology?
Bonus.
Oliver and I woke up on Thursday and wondered what we should do for the weekend. We researched Dublin, Edinburgh, Cardiff...nothing was working. "What about taking a ferry to Belgium?" I said without much earnest. Within 30 minutes, travel and lodging were booked and the planning ended. The weekend was unplanned, and everything just fell into place.
So I arrived in Brussels without any expectations, actually without even a plan not to have expectations. I left utterly pleased. So many of the happenings would have been fine on their own; standalone events, emotions, thoughts of enjoyment. But the fact that they occurred all at once, or in succession really, is what made this past weekend unlike any other. The most pleasing outcome of it all, I would have to say, though, was my ability to be comfortable with myself and my actions, to command the moment, experience life without attempting to control it, and really, truly own the space of my life.
To briefly recount my final night in Brussels might take longer than I'd like to spend, so I'll make a passing attempt at brevity and do my best to sum up (I'll need to start by no longer allowing myself these sprawling sentences that say so little).
We got dressed in our best and headed to the city center to try some typical Belgian cuisine at a restaurant suggested to us by the nice, young Greek woman we met at breakfast. Oliver had rabbit stew and sausages had I, and we relaxed on the open patio and drank a few wonderful liters (yes, liters) of beer as we listened to the free live music. And as luck would have it, who should walk by but the girls we met at breakfast! So we made plans to meet up later. Oliver and I finished our beverages and went up close to allow our eyes and ears to feast on the delight that was "The Crazy Mess Groovers," an 8 piece array of loud-suited Frenchmen with names like "Mr. Deebeedeebop" and "Mr. Creamy," fronted by a skinny fop in suspenders who could really belt it out. We met up with the ladies (Sophia the Greek and Hanne the Belgian) midway through the set and got swept away in the music. And then the rain came. It was magical. To dance in the rain, in a place I've never been, to music I've never heard, with people I'd never met before...to do all that, and feel 100% at home in my skin. The night didn't have to get any better, but it did.
We met up with some of Sophia's male friends (who were less than pleased to meet us, but made an effort to appear otherwise nonetheless) and we ended up at this small South American, Che Guevara-themed bar who's walls were covered in Sharpie art, open to any patron with a desire to wax philosophical. Naturally, there was a sort of tree diagram on one wall, and printed defiantly in block letters, asserting masculinity, were names of classic films. Names like Predator, Total Recall, Rocky, Over The Top. I may never understand the science behind it, but there on the wall it just made sense. In any case, after a few drinks (two pints of 8.5% Duvel for me) the live salsa music called for dancing, so dance we did. Lucky for us, we can dance, and also lucky for us, so could our ladies!
Afterwards, we wound up at a nightclub for more drinks (how am I, who never drinks, still standing? Perhaps it was the hearty Belgian meal), more dancing, and in all likelihood kissing and some heavy petting. For some reason, I wasn't thinking about the details of life. Maybe it was booze, or mania, or a combination of that and a natural high, but I felt good, I was happy, and that was all that mattered. The night eventually turned into morning as it has a habit of doing, and though what else transpired is clear as crystal to me, I shall leave it foggy for you. In any case when we woke up, the four of us had brunch on the rooftop terrace of the Museum of Musical Instruments. It was delicious, delightful, and despite getting a little rained on (again), it was a dream.
And then it was time to leave.
We said our goodbye's to each other and parted ways. I said goodbye to Brussels, but hello to a new confidence, and welcomed fond memories of a trip unplanned.
P.S. Did I mention the girls were the only people we met who didn't smoke, and just happened to have European Master's degrees in Exercise Physiology?
Bonus.
Sunday, May 25, 2008
Prelude to a blog
We're on our way back to England now. Much blog-worthy goings of on have transpired, but I am saving their recounting for a real keyboard to do them justice.
FYI- High On Life
Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry
Saturday, May 24, 2008
Last night, post chalice draining, Oliver and I wandered around the city center. Eventually, during a quest for ice cream, I struck up a conversation with Emily and Maude, two Belgian girls, and we then proceeded to drink (for free since they knew someone who worked there) and talk with them till 4am. They were smart, rad, and cute, generally just really fun to hang out with.
So this morning, we went to eat at a restaurant reccomended by them. They not being tourists, the restaurant menu was, how you say...in french. And so, equipped with a french vocabulary extending not far past "patisserie" and "fromagerie," we managed to order something delicious through our tried and true method of "pointy talky."
After some lunch and a chocolate mousse that left me writhing in the tastiest of diabetic comas, we met some more chickas (a belgian, a portuguese, a greecian, and a south african), talked with them for a while and made plans to meet up later tonight.
The rest of the day was touristy, filled with buying shit and looking at things. Yippee.
Now we're attempting to decipher belgian tv. It's far weirder than you could imagine.
Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry
So this morning, we went to eat at a restaurant reccomended by them. They not being tourists, the restaurant menu was, how you say...in french. And so, equipped with a french vocabulary extending not far past "patisserie" and "fromagerie," we managed to order something delicious through our tried and true method of "pointy talky."
After some lunch and a chocolate mousse that left me writhing in the tastiest of diabetic comas, we met some more chickas (a belgian, a portuguese, a greecian, and a south african), talked with them for a while and made plans to meet up later tonight.
The rest of the day was touristy, filled with buying shit and looking at things. Yippee.
Now we're attempting to decipher belgian tv. It's far weirder than you could imagine.
Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry
Can't touch it.
The Belgians play MC Hammer in their metro stations.
I'm never going to leave.
Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry
Friday, May 23, 2008
Brussels is currently rocking my face
Serendipidously we have come to the city during their annual jazz festival.
Awesome.
It's free. It's sweet. And it's a wondeful reason to sit outside in the city center and drink as the sun slowly fades.
Waffels, chocolate, even chocolate-covered waffles are abound.
Gotta go. Two giant goblets of delicious Belgian beer have arrived.
Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry
Thursday, May 22, 2008
This place has an impressive ability of redeeming itself even after angering me to the point of absurdity.
I will save the vitriolic account of last night's events, but suffice it to say that I am now of the opinion that English women are not only some of the least attractive caucasians, but also the rudest and most slovenly.
However...
That aside, I am having a splendid time. We just rode bikes to the edge of Cambridge and are sitting on the river drinking Cider that has been sold since 1728. Not that it's that old, but it's that good.
Tomorrow morning we drive to Dover and then taking a ferry to Belgium! So we'll spend the weekend in Brussels mucking about.
Magnifico.
Food arrived, must munch.
Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry
Wednesday, May 21, 2008
Those Silly Things That I Don't Know.
Intangibles.
Aside from being an excellent name for a superhero group, that word seems to be the speculative thorn in the side of my mind. It's those things that I can't quite grasp, control, really put my finger on that seem to crop up when I get out on vacation. Usually, I would imagine, that most people spend their free time on vacations relaxing and not really thinking about all that much. Perhaps it's a lack of structure, but given all this free time my brain likes to stretch its legs into the vast expanse of could-be's and bother me with thoughts that in all likelyhood will never come to pass.
But there's nothing like a Go Kart race to distract me.
I took a break from writing this mental defecation to go with Olie to shred some English countryside with 260cc of pure joy! Let me just say that nothing clears my blockage like careening around hairpin turns at 30mph sans seatbelt or rollcage...at least I had some overalls on in case I caught fire.
Now I'm in Bury St Edmunds. It's quiet and really pretty. It's where they buried Edmund. Duh.
Funny how things change so fast.
Love. It.
Or. Hate. It.
My moods are nothing if not exciting. I like writing these entries in pieces. This next section comes after a conversation with Oliver about how my mind works while on vacation.
He suggested that a "vacation" for me might be something different. Somehow he zeroed in on an idea that really piqued my interest: a trip where I work. The idea being that after the vacation is over, I've accomplished something like helped build a house, etc.
My mind is reeling with avenues to explore.
There is a fat fly that keeps landing on my thigh; I wonder if he's waiting for my food to arrive too.
Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry
Aside from being an excellent name for a superhero group, that word seems to be the speculative thorn in the side of my mind. It's those things that I can't quite grasp, control, really put my finger on that seem to crop up when I get out on vacation. Usually, I would imagine, that most people spend their free time on vacations relaxing and not really thinking about all that much. Perhaps it's a lack of structure, but given all this free time my brain likes to stretch its legs into the vast expanse of could-be's and bother me with thoughts that in all likelyhood will never come to pass.
But there's nothing like a Go Kart race to distract me.
I took a break from writing this mental defecation to go with Olie to shred some English countryside with 260cc of pure joy! Let me just say that nothing clears my blockage like careening around hairpin turns at 30mph sans seatbelt or rollcage...at least I had some overalls on in case I caught fire.
Now I'm in Bury St Edmunds. It's quiet and really pretty. It's where they buried Edmund. Duh.
Funny how things change so fast.
Love. It.
Or. Hate. It.
My moods are nothing if not exciting. I like writing these entries in pieces. This next section comes after a conversation with Oliver about how my mind works while on vacation.
He suggested that a "vacation" for me might be something different. Somehow he zeroed in on an idea that really piqued my interest: a trip where I work. The idea being that after the vacation is over, I've accomplished something like helped build a house, etc.
My mind is reeling with avenues to explore.
There is a fat fly that keeps landing on my thigh; I wonder if he's waiting for my food to arrive too.
Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry
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