And now, waking life returns with a vengeance.
There is a lot more going on beneath the surface of things. I'm trying to listen. I'm trying to determine what is available to me now, and what I should cast aside. What is obvious here, that I keep missing? I feel as though something keeps escaping my radar.
As far as men go, I feel more than ever that I'm barking up an impossible tree. (No, there can be no such thing as an impossible tree; it's called figurative language.) Please, Self, just let me give up once and for all. (Self, I have decided, is a boy, by the way. His name is Jack.)
The Martin Amis is going well. I want to finish it so I can move on - my to-read list is rather long - and I've committed myself to two chapters a night, an easy goal to reach and a way of making myself do it. I got the idea from Amis himself actually - he wrote a chapter every two days. He's brilliant, I'm inspired: I've also decided to commit to writing 5 well-developed paragraphs every day. 5 paragraphs isn't a lot. It's a lot more than I have been doing, however. The idea is to get into the habit of actually doing it. I can't wait for inspiration anymore, because with school, social drama, general confusion, etc., moments of inspiration have been few and far between. I must create them. I've been living too much and life is getting the best of me.
I just did something that is either very foolish or very brave and quite possibly both. And I still have brave, foolish things yet to do. 1 down, 2 to go. I better get used to it. Really, I could stand to do these things more often.
"I have but one heart in my body, have mercy on me." I'm going to make a shirt.