Running across the fields and highways of the Great Wasteland of New Jersey is always a strange experience for me. It never makes me happier, but it helps. It's always a jarring contrast to my sedate, complacent life in suburbia. Primal, visceral, painful. At first I like a soft, pathetic weakling, then I'm a savage animal.
I find it too easy to remove myself from my body. I guess I'm too cerebral, too much of a thinker, a constantly working consciousness floating over a practically dead body. Then when I'm overcome by emotions too big for my consciousness to handle, my body gets confused about how to deal with them.
I think this happens to a lot of people. Hence the running around like crazy and punching walls. (I punch walls.)
The pictures of the human body and muscles fits this post so well. Again, visceral.
I don't punch walls because I tend to break them or severely injure myself. About eight years ago, I punched the window of my room. I didn't shatter the window all the way. I only broke the first pane.
My room was in front of the house. It wasn't too conspicuous, but looking up, it was pretty easy for one to notice the jagged polygonal ring in the middle of the window square. I cleaned up some of the glass fragments, but the window stayed that way for some time. And so did my shame.
It was only three years after I moved out that the window was finally replaced.
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I find it too easy to remove myself from my body. I guess I'm too cerebral, too much of a thinker, a constantly working consciousness floating over a practically dead body. Then when I'm overcome by emotions too big for my consciousness to handle, my body gets confused about how to deal with them.
I think this happens to a lot of people. Hence the running around like crazy and punching walls. (I punch walls.)
The pictures of the human body and muscles fits this post so well. Again, visceral.
Reply
My room was in front of the house. It wasn't too conspicuous, but looking up, it was pretty easy for one to notice the jagged polygonal ring in the middle of the window square. I cleaned up some of the glass fragments, but the window stayed that way for some time. And so did my shame.
It was only three years after I moved out that the window was finally replaced.
Reply
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