uncomfortable
I was thinking about the phrase: comfort zones. Other than confirming how one best deals with investments, I look at it as more of an alert zone. Alert to denial, stagnation, crowding fears, and numbness.
I said to a friend recently, they are more like discomfort traps.
All the anxieties, neurosis', and soundtracks, cradled in our arms, there to bury our faces in their softly rotting promises, whenever we think of acting on dreams and longings or responding to the whispers of our souls.
They are the step back to the two steps forward; if there are two steps forward.
Everyone's talking and no one is listening. Everyone has great advice but few people take their own. The same words are coming out of everyone's mouth and I in my mask, do the same. I look for myself in the sea of words, the waves that ebb and flow each day, from my coworkers, my neighbors, strangers on the street, a blog, a facebook post. I frame a response, I post my viewpoint, I speak to the strangers.
There is a guy in my neighborhood, who may or may not live in the house a few blocks away for men returning to society after jail time, I'll call it a halfway house.
Maybe he lives on his own and has a developmental disability or lives with the after effects of a physical condition. He speaks very slowly and deliberately using simple words. He collects recyclables from the trash bins set outside. He loves dogs and knows Sahara pretty well. He is handsome despite the damage; tall, fair skin, blue eyes, strong build, very clean. He seems to me to know that he appears imposing, because of his size or circumstance and is respectful on the street. Just writing about him makes my eyes fill up.
One day I will ask, what is your story? Or maybe I will ask one question each time I see him that may lead to more of his story. I hope he has a cat.
I am so isolated. After the break up, there is just me. I don't have a gaggle of friends. My friends annoy me, maybe they're not really great friends. Maybe I'm not such a great friend. I think there is no damn time to nurture friendships. Want to meet for a drink?
I'd love to but: I have to work late, I have to visit my mom, I have to call my mom, I have to run errands, I have to feed the dog, I have no energy because the daily grind wears me down, I have no money; how about next week?
I said to a friend recently, they are more like discomfort traps.
All the anxieties, neurosis', and soundtracks, cradled in our arms, there to bury our faces in their softly rotting promises, whenever we think of acting on dreams and longings or responding to the whispers of our souls.
They are the step back to the two steps forward; if there are two steps forward.
Everyone's talking and no one is listening. Everyone has great advice but few people take their own. The same words are coming out of everyone's mouth and I in my mask, do the same. I look for myself in the sea of words, the waves that ebb and flow each day, from my coworkers, my neighbors, strangers on the street, a blog, a facebook post. I frame a response, I post my viewpoint, I speak to the strangers.
There is a guy in my neighborhood, who may or may not live in the house a few blocks away for men returning to society after jail time, I'll call it a halfway house.
Maybe he lives on his own and has a developmental disability or lives with the after effects of a physical condition. He speaks very slowly and deliberately using simple words. He collects recyclables from the trash bins set outside. He loves dogs and knows Sahara pretty well. He is handsome despite the damage; tall, fair skin, blue eyes, strong build, very clean. He seems to me to know that he appears imposing, because of his size or circumstance and is respectful on the street. Just writing about him makes my eyes fill up.
One day I will ask, what is your story? Or maybe I will ask one question each time I see him that may lead to more of his story. I hope he has a cat.
I am so isolated. After the break up, there is just me. I don't have a gaggle of friends. My friends annoy me, maybe they're not really great friends. Maybe I'm not such a great friend. I think there is no damn time to nurture friendships. Want to meet for a drink?
I'd love to but: I have to work late, I have to visit my mom, I have to call my mom, I have to run errands, I have to feed the dog, I have no energy because the daily grind wears me down, I have no money; how about next week?