Into My Arid Days [Like Wind]
Another poet I find appealing is Edna St. Vincent Millay. That's why I've bastardized text from one of her poems for tonight's journal entry title. It makes me happy to make titles that will evoke the feeling I had when I wrote an entry, when I read back through this record in the future. Perhaps it seems meaningless or unrelated to the entry for other people, but I know that I'll still see where it applies.
___
I think of all manner of things to write about when I'm at work. It's practically the only thing that keeps me sane. I sit in my chair, mindlessly editing an endless parade of medical requisitions, all the while composing long (and likely tedious) journal entries. Seventy-five percent of which never see the light of my laptop screen.
Life has been remarkably schizoid lately, which makes me wish I'd been writing out more of these work-induced ramblings. If I had, perhaps I'd have better records for myself. Things to read and realize how much changes and how much stays the same. I suppose I'm remedying that now, as long as my journal writing frenzy lasts this time.
___
I have spent the last year in Seattle. Much of it has been an intensely lonely experience. This, of course, doesn't have anything to do with the time I spend with the boy or with the Heather. They are good company, always. It has to do with missing a sense of inclusion. Of being a part of something. I have felt, almost all of the time, as if I was standing on the outskirts of a very lovely party filled with bright faces and laughter. I wasn't being excluded, but I wasn't exactly being invited in, either. This appears to be changing.
This may, in part, be due to my having forced myself out of my anxiety-induced comfort zone and insinuating myself into conversations with people that I've had an interest in meeting. I've always seen certain people as shining out from the dull morass of humanity surrounding them. There are just particular people I know that stand out. It's sort of like the crowd resembles the shapes your mind conjures while trying to make sense of whirling fog and shadows, but these certain people stand clearly delineated and vividly colored.
I always want to meet these people when I come across them. I always feel a bit terrified, as well. The anxious voice that lives at the base of my skull whispers that I look foolish trying to keep up. I'm not smart enough. Quick enough. It's better to just give up now, better to walk away than to fail.
Luckily, thankfully, wonderfully, there is a conflicting voice that speaks to me of challenge and showmanship. That tries to gently persuade me that I should do more, even be more. The voice that tells me to match and surpass and be inspired.
I really need to turn up the volume on Voice #2, there.
___
I don't know where this entire entry is going, so I believe I'll end it soon. Tonight has been a strange mixture of emotions. Work drags me down, down, down. Most of the rest of my life is currently on a general upswing.
I have happier thoughts than those contained in this journal entry. But I think I'm going to post them in my SUPER SEEKRIT JOURNAL.
On a mildly related note, does anyone know if it is possible to switch the names on two of your own journals? I want to do that with two of my other journals, but fear it to be impossible.
___
I think of all manner of things to write about when I'm at work. It's practically the only thing that keeps me sane. I sit in my chair, mindlessly editing an endless parade of medical requisitions, all the while composing long (and likely tedious) journal entries. Seventy-five percent of which never see the light of my laptop screen.
Life has been remarkably schizoid lately, which makes me wish I'd been writing out more of these work-induced ramblings. If I had, perhaps I'd have better records for myself. Things to read and realize how much changes and how much stays the same. I suppose I'm remedying that now, as long as my journal writing frenzy lasts this time.
___
I have spent the last year in Seattle. Much of it has been an intensely lonely experience. This, of course, doesn't have anything to do with the time I spend with the boy or with the Heather. They are good company, always. It has to do with missing a sense of inclusion. Of being a part of something. I have felt, almost all of the time, as if I was standing on the outskirts of a very lovely party filled with bright faces and laughter. I wasn't being excluded, but I wasn't exactly being invited in, either. This appears to be changing.
This may, in part, be due to my having forced myself out of my anxiety-induced comfort zone and insinuating myself into conversations with people that I've had an interest in meeting. I've always seen certain people as shining out from the dull morass of humanity surrounding them. There are just particular people I know that stand out. It's sort of like the crowd resembles the shapes your mind conjures while trying to make sense of whirling fog and shadows, but these certain people stand clearly delineated and vividly colored.
I always want to meet these people when I come across them. I always feel a bit terrified, as well. The anxious voice that lives at the base of my skull whispers that I look foolish trying to keep up. I'm not smart enough. Quick enough. It's better to just give up now, better to walk away than to fail.
Luckily, thankfully, wonderfully, there is a conflicting voice that speaks to me of challenge and showmanship. That tries to gently persuade me that I should do more, even be more. The voice that tells me to match and surpass and be inspired.
I really need to turn up the volume on Voice #2, there.
___
I don't know where this entire entry is going, so I believe I'll end it soon. Tonight has been a strange mixture of emotions. Work drags me down, down, down. Most of the rest of my life is currently on a general upswing.
I have happier thoughts than those contained in this journal entry. But I think I'm going to post them in my SUPER SEEKRIT JOURNAL.
On a mildly related note, does anyone know if it is possible to switch the names on two of your own journals? I want to do that with two of my other journals, but fear it to be impossible.