coffee with silence

Sometimes I wish that I had a quiet moment. I usually wish that when there is no chance in hell that I will have one immediately, or any time soon.

Ah, and just as I typed that, the swirl of annoying chatter around me up and died away. Thoroughly random, life. So, I'm now sitting here and tapping away with a cup of coffee by my side, a cozy feeling laying quietly all over the surface of my skin. I have been thinking this morning about flaws and perspective and comparison. It is a sneaky thing, comparison. I found myself sliding into it just last night, visiting friends who's lives and houses seem so much more put together than mine. Getting into that subtle place is so easy; getting out of it is nigh impossible. When comparing my life/house/relationships to other people, it almost seems like I'm getting a new perspective: here is what you're life/houes/relationship looks like *compared to*... But is that the highest that perspective should ascend? Cannot my view be vaulted even further up (for people are always around to be compared to) and show me that, yes, my life looks like "x" next to my friend's life "y", but that doesn't give more value to hers and less to mine. My life is (should I write it?) is entirely mine, my decisions alone. Taking responsibility for it is like taking a big gulp before diving off a cliff.

The utter committment it takes to own my life is scary. It feels adult, responsible. I have to stand up and say: yes, I have decided to do this, to be this, and I stick by my decisions. That means that I cannot go back and make the other decisions...and what if the other decision was the better choice?

Life doesn't work like that. I can only do the best I can, make the clearest, smartest decision possible---but I must make it!---and then live it.

cinder block

What could be better than green tea and nice music to accompany the soft tapping of my own fingers on the keyboard?

tea, with pleasure
stir dreams
with peacock feathers
sever the knot
from the taught rope
and sail
further than the sighted stretch
of glassy supposition
plunging into the depth
of opal imagination

Today is a day of Floating

And I can't seem to pin my mind down, to focus on things other than the nebulous worry. The Nebulous Worry is not friendly, and it will not let me settle down, buckle down, or get to work. The N.W. is a feeling of unease, that I should be peaceful but am not. It chops my head from my body like a balloon chopped from its string.
Floating.
Needing to work on....needing to task. Needing to sew back onto my body my lethargically floating head.



The demands of the day do not allow for personal squeamishness, nor will they tolerate the holding of breath.