wond'ring what you're gonna do
Can't sleep.
"Obsession" is too strong a word. Let's go with "fixation".
Yes, I have a fixation. I wouldn't say there's an object, though. It's more that there's a subject, and I could ask for no better subject to fixate upon. And so I run with it. Thoughts clutter my mind during the most inopportune moments, and you can imagine this can make it difficult at times to be normal in some respects. It can be difficult to concentrate on work. It can be difficult to read, actually paying attention to the words. It can be difficult to play, for the mistakes will creep in when the mind wanders from the task at hand. And - think about why this entry even exists - it can be difficult to get to sleep.
I don't mind it, of course. I really don't. I meant it when I said I could ask for no better subject. I welcome these thoughts. I invite them in and I enjoy them. Sometimes they feel they've overstayed their welcome, and they make motions to leave. "Don't be silly", I tell them. "Stay as long as you wish. I have a very comfortable futon if you would like to stay the night." And then they get kind of nervous and say something about needing to work early in the morning. Well, maybe next time.
But sometimes I wonder about this fixation. Sometimes, you see, it seems to be edging towards addiction. There are obvious connections, what with the unbearability of life without, the desire for larger doses all the time. But this is no controlled substance, nothing dangerous or hurtful. My subject brings neither danger nor hurt, and as for control, that remains to be seen. The thing that really makes me wonder about the fixation is how others perceive me now as I babble on and on, going in the same circles over and over as if there are no other thoughts in my head. But hey, it's never been that big a concern, and it's definitely less important to me now.
It's a crush that gets stronger every day. This is not a bad thing. It's not as if some invisible hand is pushing me down, holding me still. It's not the deadly boa's grip. It's a welcome presence, a firm and insistent pressure. It's like being enveloped in a very long and very good hug. And soon it will be that much better, for I will be with my subject.
Must sleep.
"Obsession" is too strong a word. Let's go with "fixation".
Yes, I have a fixation. I wouldn't say there's an object, though. It's more that there's a subject, and I could ask for no better subject to fixate upon. And so I run with it. Thoughts clutter my mind during the most inopportune moments, and you can imagine this can make it difficult at times to be normal in some respects. It can be difficult to concentrate on work. It can be difficult to read, actually paying attention to the words. It can be difficult to play, for the mistakes will creep in when the mind wanders from the task at hand. And - think about why this entry even exists - it can be difficult to get to sleep.
I don't mind it, of course. I really don't. I meant it when I said I could ask for no better subject. I welcome these thoughts. I invite them in and I enjoy them. Sometimes they feel they've overstayed their welcome, and they make motions to leave. "Don't be silly", I tell them. "Stay as long as you wish. I have a very comfortable futon if you would like to stay the night." And then they get kind of nervous and say something about needing to work early in the morning. Well, maybe next time.
But sometimes I wonder about this fixation. Sometimes, you see, it seems to be edging towards addiction. There are obvious connections, what with the unbearability of life without, the desire for larger doses all the time. But this is no controlled substance, nothing dangerous or hurtful. My subject brings neither danger nor hurt, and as for control, that remains to be seen. The thing that really makes me wonder about the fixation is how others perceive me now as I babble on and on, going in the same circles over and over as if there are no other thoughts in my head. But hey, it's never been that big a concern, and it's definitely less important to me now.
It's a crush that gets stronger every day. This is not a bad thing. It's not as if some invisible hand is pushing me down, holding me still. It's not the deadly boa's grip. It's a welcome presence, a firm and insistent pressure. It's like being enveloped in a very long and very good hug. And soon it will be that much better, for I will be with my subject.
Must sleep.