As I learned with okazu, it is really difficult for me to keep an active blog. okazu was (is?) difficult due to a number of factors, but I am mostly limited by my occasional bouts of depression.  I completely lose the motivation to do anything at all, let alone write seemingly pointless blabber for the internet-public.  When I am hit with the motivation to write, I am then hit with the motivation to accomplish approximately four hundred other things at the same time.  It usually does not end well; I have piles of unfinished projects (lists and poetry and artwork and letters and goodness-knows-what-else), residing both in my actual physical space and in digital archives and drafts.

My browser bookmarks are a disaster.  I have written maddening unreadable notes to myself in too many notebooks, dog-earred the pages of too many paperbacks.

And then I am hit with the urge to organize my bookshelf by colour at two in the morning because I can’t be still and obviously this is a pressing matter than must be attended to immediately, before I die.

Every little task just seems so important and so necessary.  Because life is so short!  And what if I don’t get it done?  This will make me a better person (somehow)!

And then, two days later, I cannot even will myself out of bed. I wallow in the must-be-true fact that no one would miss me were I to disappear from the face of the earth.

Then I’m agitated and angry and want to live life for me and nobody else and you can all go fuck yourselves.

You see where I’m going, here, right?

I am slowly realizing that I have been this way for a long time, though the manifestation throughout different periods of my life has not always been quite the same.  I suppose we adapt to our environments (adapt is totally not the correct word in this instance, I don’t think). The last couple years, however, have been increasingly bizarre; I have been experiencing thoughts and acting in ways I have not since I was much younger.

So I don’t know.  I don’t even remember where I was going with this, really.  I try incredibly hard to not be limited, but I’m sure that I limit myself in more ways that I can possibly keep track of on a little bulleted list.

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One thought on “mindworks

  1. Eliza April 10, 2011 at 10:08 am Reply

    Probably a little cliche, but worth reminding yourself of:

    You do not have to be good.
    You do not have to walk on your knees
    for a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.
    You only have to let the soft animal of your body
    love what it loves.
    Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
    Meanwhile the world goes on.
    Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
    are moving across the landscapes,
    over the prairies and the deep trees,
    the mountains and the rivers.
    Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
    are heading home again.
    Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
    the world offers itself to your imagination,
    calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting–
    over and over announcing your place
    in the family of things.

    -Mary Oliver, ‘Wild Geese’

    which is not to say that you should feel bad for worrying about living correctly, but simply that you probably already are living correctly.

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