the night i felt tired

Sometimes I decide I want something new.

Usually when this happens it's because I'm looking at what I already have, and I'm sick of seeing it. I'm sick of the clothes in my closet. So, I want new ones. Time for a trip to the Goodwill Blue Hanger, or for a Savers 50% off sale. Or for a sewing machine. But I can't just add to the wardrobe, I've gotta get rid of the old. And not only do I gotta get rid of it, I also gotta find a good way to get rid of it. Give it to someone who wants it, needs it, would fit well with it, or is poor...

I think a lot about how things can be used as other things. When I'm making my breakfast taco in the morning I look at the carton of eggs and think of the ways it can be recycled into something new. This intrigues me. I tense up and wince a little bit, right there, standing at the stove, as I think about the day when I use up the last egg and I have to make a choice - whether to hold on to that little egg carton...maybe find a place for it in the garage. Maybe build a home or nest for little egg cartons, and plastic bags, and wrappers, and things...things that could be useful again. Or if I'm going to waste its reincarnated life as a functioning utility by tossing it in the trash.

Yes, I know. Austin recycles - there is hope for this little piece of cardboard legs with a top hat. But that is so impersonal. I would rather see this little cardboard man dance in my kitchen to a new song.

It takes so much to manage it all...

I am tired. I've been growing tired for a while, now. How long, I do not know. I am not present. I am not living in the moment. Has anyone ever really been able to do it?

I was trying to remind myself tonight (by telling my room mate - and using my quantum physics lingo, probably incorrectly, in attempts to sound smart) that there is no time. No time! It's an illusion. It's a construction of death. It's the result of our knowledge - good and evil. You're not waiting for eternity...you're in eternity.

Stop waiting.

Oh, but it takes so much energy. I am going a million miles an hour to try to balance it all, and for what? Christian love? Altruism.

My misery is a result of forgetting, once past - in a particular time - as well as habitually, who I really am. And by overlooking who I am my ghost feels naked and knows she's just a ghost and that everyone can see the wall and the expression of the face on the painting she's standing in front of - through her. She's just trying to stand there and hold it up but everyone can see right through it, and sometimes she can see right through them, too, and it makes her feel a little better...

I have to remember. Oh God, what is it going to take? A season of solitude in the woods? Everyone tries that. I'm already there in my head. What difference would it make? My Walden Pond is all around me all the time, I just have to open my eyes.

I'm frustrated. I don't feel very creative right now. I want to make something just so I can look at it and know it came from me. I don't want answers anymore. I want to find out what the question was.

Welcome the mud along with the picturesque. Embrace the mosquitoes and flies with the ambience of the cry of the loon. Stop pretending I can experience one without the other. They both come in the same glass. There's nothing else to drink.

I guess I just need nights like this sometimes. Hell, if I didn't, would I ever have anything to say at all? I always gotta have somethin' to say.