Like a Worn John Watson

Sometimes.

Sometimes its like being adrift in a great body of water.  My family is the wind.  My friends the jetty bracing me against the tide. Sometimes striking me, hurting me, but often times creating eddies for me to rest in; little pools of thought where I can stir up the sand without reprimand.  Events are the shores, and every now and again there is something that creates a pause in my life, an embankment that I must crest to continue.

But sometimes, like now, its a never ending stream of days at sea.  One after the other after the other after the other, where I feel there is no change and there is no growth.  And all I am aware of is the passing of time.

Every second that goes by haunts me like a physical specter and I am unable to enjoy my time in life's calm.

(Wishing for and dreading the waterfall all the same.)

GOSIG KANIN

Yesterday I saw a brown stuffed bunny rabbit, the size of an infant with soft fur and floppy ears. There wasn't anything special about the bunny, and no one I was with wanted me to buy it, as it was "a waste of money".

Yet it made me happy, so I bought it. I now own a stuffed rabbit from the children's section.



In a couple of weeks it will join the small pile of stuffed animals that live at the foot of my bed, but last night and today, and hopefully tomorrow, it brings me happiness.
 
And that's all I'd really like to own in life, a small soft bit of happiness that I can call my own.
 
(True Story)

Things I've Learned #200085 : And Everything Nice

if Girls are made of sugar & spice,
and Boys are made of snails & puppy dog tails,
then Adults are made of hypocrisy & autocracy.

(pure and simple.)


But what am I to grow up and become?

Things I've Learned #200084

At times taking a "stab in the dark" isn't such a good idea,
because somehow I usually end up stabbing myself
and accomplishing nothing.

BiG GiRL NOW

Someone, who is not me, keeps putting words in my mouth.
And those words are "I go to college, so now I'm Big Shit around here".
However, the thought never entered my mind until I was attacked with it.

Perhaps this is what I'm projecting, even though I'm not feeling it? But this isn't me, or could it be?

Made me smile...

SuperCUTE!!!!

http://lolita-charm.blogspot.com/2010/03/lolita-charm-x-mouse-market-giveaway.html

"I'm tired of thinking."

I've uttered this thought ironically more than 30 times this day. I'm not estimating and I'm not guessing - I've been so introspective that I set up an actual count of this one constant & monopolizing thought.

And I've come to the conclusion that its less than healthy. So to counter it, or my way of stopping said behavior, I sleep. And because I dream lucidly and deeply, I wake up with more fodder for my never ending thoughts...and that leads me back to being tired...of thinking.

Whoa. Ladies and Gentlemen I have discovered a rut in my plans. Yup, big fucking rut.

---

Its not that I enjoy driving my self crazy, but I feel as if I've painted myself into a corner. What I want is all mapped out in my head; I have my own ideal, my own reasons for doing things. But I'm stuck at a crossroads and I've broken my leg. Now its not that I don't know which way to choose - its that I'm unable to move in any direction until I've healed. I feel that where I am is a cage too small for my wing span. And I'm tied of waiting for someone to open the latch. [Metaphor much? Gahds.]

Its a beautiful cage, with gilded bars, pristine floors and dishes. Well fed and preened is she, the bird that sings most splendidly a song that she was taught to entertain with. But its not enough to sing without reason. the other birds; the lesser birds who are given access to the world abroad, provided with the keys to their own freedom, tell of longing for what the placated bird has. The security that her cage and accoutrements offer. Her cultured plume, and colorful breast that attract and belay good standing, her gracious song, all gifts to be revered. But it's never enough She has been written off by some as ungrateful and its often that she finds herself thinking the same. "What have I to feel longing for?" But its what's outside her damnable door that she wants; feelings that she cannot imagine and thoughts that she cannot concieve alone. She wants to be more than the pretty birdie, always looking out yet lacking things within. Because now that shes grown her cage is too small. And birds in small cages never do well.