*Sits up, rubs eyes, yawns*
Let’s do this.
I have shaken away the cobwebs of summer and I am now in the thick of school. The shaking must have been quite jarring, however, since I do feel rather overwhelmed and submerged by obligations, and my mind often reels and twitches in the late hours for fear of sinking. This is a usual trend, I have found, which involves a few weeks of uncomfortable transition in order to appropriately become an academic machine. Fortunately, I have recently become overwhelmed by an intense desire for progress and understanding, but this can be kinda draining sometimes. Getting lost in myself feels safe, but I am wary.
And so it begins! This is certainly a peculiar time I am in, but I am doing my best to enjoy it. I have gotten better at realizing my limits, and even better at learning how to push them. It is rather uncomfortable, but a fundamental part of me is being uncomfortable with the lack of discomfort. It scares me, to be in a state of 100% tranquility, because how can I expect it to get better? There’s no horizon at that point. It’s just like when people say “Oh yeah, I’ve totally found myself.” Well that must be pretty shitty, huh? I think that finding “parts” of myself along the way, like an Easter Egg hunt, is the way to go. I don’t want to run off and find all of the eggs at once. Then, the game will surely be over.
I really don’t know what I’m saying anymore. I’m in a brain funk right now, and I am very aware of that. Funky funk. Lots o’ funk. It happens every once in a day or so, but I really wanted to write, so here I am, spewing my nonsense onto the keyboard. Funky.
I plan to get into the habit of writing every Saturday if I can, so if you like nonsense and other miscellaneous mind buzzings, come on by.
Overall, I am doing very well, and I am excited for the future, however distant it seems.
You can find me,
where the morning mist murks,
in the valleys, on the roads,
watching the sun rise,
above the curtain.
It brings me comfort,
to be so comfortably alone,
It brings me pain,
to be so painfully alone,
That one is pretty angsty. ^
Some special poetry I wrote during the eclipse:
Beneath the slivered sun,
where shadows slide from spliced starlight,
eyes turn skyward,
spheres that move with daunting grace,
sunlight slide behind invisible edge
cosmic swing-sets interfere.
Beneath, we are here, but above us all is where I look, invigorated by what we can explain, and excited by what we can’t. Eager