Streams of consciousness
Am I dwelling too much in the dark parts of my mind that give lease to my anxieties and bad habits these days? I feel self-indulgent at times, just wanting to find the validation of parts of me that I’m not sure are there. I want to sit on the beach; a nice, warm beach with sand and not too many rocks. I stare out at the ocean until the water calls me inside and doesn’t play games with me with sudden brutal cold. The world seems so small when I’m online, but faced with reality, a drive across the province might as well be a drive to the other edge of the country.
I had a taste of myself that I missed when I was in Ontario; maybe it was just having people in the flesh that do it, where I don’t feel like I need to pretend to be interesting through careful manipulations of letters and spaces. I need to write people letters again; I still owe too many people some legitimate snail mail. I feel like I have to keep my activities behind the big door here lest the prying eyes of people who don’t recognize personal space start questioning me on information they’re not party to.
What’s holding me back? I find my boldness is inconsistent and not even tied to whenever I’m slightly inebriated. What does it take to have me lose my reservations and fear of failure? Sometimes truth plays too much like a greeting card for my liking.
I’m thinking of going camping again; the last time I went was somewhat of a disaster. First rule for me is don’t go with someone who you’ll but heads with at every stage of the venture. I feel the road drawing me away from my fixed position. It’s hard for me to imagine things that aren’t influenced by past experiences, especially if I’m trying to think about something that’s a complete break from my present reality. I had a dream last night where for some reason I was in a dorm again, and some guy pissed on my floor. I wonder where that comes from. Is this really what I’m thinking about these days? Piss?
How do you harness this desire to write? I’m remembering the days when my friend and I built a journey for two errant former college athletes going from Duluth to New York to try to beat the mediocrity of their best-case scenario. I want to get back into that productivity again, but I find that when I’m working, I’m too drained to write, and when I’m not working, I feel too guilty to do it.