Thursday, August 31, 2006
Weird - Root - Word
I've been awake since about 11. I got maybe 3 and a half or 4 hours sleep. It's just me and you in this space at the moment.
I feel really weird this morning.
I feel like running away into the forest near some beautiful stream. Laying myself down amongst the huckleberry bushes, ferns, and tall trees. Near a stream and a trail. Then let myself sink into the earth. Eagles and ravens could pick at my flesh, eat me with bits of salmon. Bears munching on berries to take what's left to fatten themselves up for their long winter nap.
I suddenly don't feel comfortable in my own body, my own life.
Maybe it's because I haven't gotten enough sleep? Maybe this is a "nightmare light" feeling and my spirit is still partially asleep, caught between the world of waking and bad dreams.
"Weird" comes from the same root word as "word." Maybe even "world."
It's 2:30 in the morning. In half an hour I'll be on my bike and heading to work. Gotta keep that routine going. Keep me straight. Maybe I will all straighten out during my work day.
Weird, work, world, word...
I want to cry. I want to ride my bike or go for a walk without having the fear of being harassed by a cop. I want to stretch my neck, arch my back, turn my head from side to side. I want my hands to loosen up in free flowing grace like sea weed in the waves of the ocean. I want to laugh at my rediculousness. I want to laugh at myself.
Today, I may miss my show, but I still want to go to the station and visit at least.
I have awoken from nightmares I have long since forgotten. Putting up boundaries between my waking self and the fear and pain.
I have no idea what is going on in my heart and mind right now. My waking self says just stick with the routine. Do what I need to do. I listen. But somewhere deep down inside, I have suddenly become uncomfortable. I don't know what is going on. Maybe it's the lack of sleep. Maybe I'm just being rediculous.
I feel like something has been broken in me or maybe just wounded, but hard. Maybe when I wake up tomorrow it will all be different. I feel somewhat emptied. Like my soul has cotton mouth but it can't moisten back up. I feel kind of numb. I don't want to be numb. I'd rather feel pain than be numb.
If you haven't noticed, I'm just writing what is in my head at the moment.
I'm working on my second cup of coffee from my favorite cup, the one with Botticelli's "Venus."
Maybe I should write about the sounds. The noises outside, after I awoke, seemed so much louder. Train horns that never bothered my rest before seemed to grate on me like the car horn did yesterday afternoon when I attempted a nap.
Felicia, the other day when we walked out on the bridge, talked of the fish we saw in the river one day, that popped up right in our shadows as we prayed from my offering spot. You know, I don't think I've called her since I last saw her on Sunday. I feel like a piece of shit, now. Not that I didn't to begin with.
Something in me just feels weird, wrong, word...
Words are tools I use to create ideas in the world. To give myself and others education. To see patterns of the world and pray for change.
I'm just rambling now, but it seems like the right thing to do...
Do you like garlic? I Love garlic! Garlic makes me happy!
I wonder if my history has caught up to me? You know, how I've been telling you about seeing my history in this area for a year or two, now, recently mentioning it coming near the present. Does any of this mean anything? I doubt it. Tomorrow, I'll wake up, get ready for work or to go get my check. I've heard that the schedule can change from day to day and if work is actually thinking of having me run the Hillsboro route on Fridays and Saturdays, maybe they'll pencil me in against my will and I'll be working 6 days in a row. I don't think so, though, because they must be paying the staffing agency at least $20 an hour for me. (Staffing agency=pimp).
Maybe I'm just trying to gather waking energy to get me through the day?
Either way, I feel like something is wrong in me now. Wrong, write, word, work, world...weird.
I feel really weird this morning.
I feel like running away into the forest near some beautiful stream. Laying myself down amongst the huckleberry bushes, ferns, and tall trees. Near a stream and a trail. Then let myself sink into the earth. Eagles and ravens could pick at my flesh, eat me with bits of salmon. Bears munching on berries to take what's left to fatten themselves up for their long winter nap.
I suddenly don't feel comfortable in my own body, my own life.
Maybe it's because I haven't gotten enough sleep? Maybe this is a "nightmare light" feeling and my spirit is still partially asleep, caught between the world of waking and bad dreams.
"Weird" comes from the same root word as "word." Maybe even "world."
It's 2:30 in the morning. In half an hour I'll be on my bike and heading to work. Gotta keep that routine going. Keep me straight. Maybe I will all straighten out during my work day.
Weird, work, world, word...
I want to cry. I want to ride my bike or go for a walk without having the fear of being harassed by a cop. I want to stretch my neck, arch my back, turn my head from side to side. I want my hands to loosen up in free flowing grace like sea weed in the waves of the ocean. I want to laugh at my rediculousness. I want to laugh at myself.
Today, I may miss my show, but I still want to go to the station and visit at least.
I have awoken from nightmares I have long since forgotten. Putting up boundaries between my waking self and the fear and pain.
I have no idea what is going on in my heart and mind right now. My waking self says just stick with the routine. Do what I need to do. I listen. But somewhere deep down inside, I have suddenly become uncomfortable. I don't know what is going on. Maybe it's the lack of sleep. Maybe I'm just being rediculous.
I feel like something has been broken in me or maybe just wounded, but hard. Maybe when I wake up tomorrow it will all be different. I feel somewhat emptied. Like my soul has cotton mouth but it can't moisten back up. I feel kind of numb. I don't want to be numb. I'd rather feel pain than be numb.
If you haven't noticed, I'm just writing what is in my head at the moment.
I'm working on my second cup of coffee from my favorite cup, the one with Botticelli's "Venus."
Maybe I should write about the sounds. The noises outside, after I awoke, seemed so much louder. Train horns that never bothered my rest before seemed to grate on me like the car horn did yesterday afternoon when I attempted a nap.
Felicia, the other day when we walked out on the bridge, talked of the fish we saw in the river one day, that popped up right in our shadows as we prayed from my offering spot. You know, I don't think I've called her since I last saw her on Sunday. I feel like a piece of shit, now. Not that I didn't to begin with.
Something in me just feels weird, wrong, word...
Words are tools I use to create ideas in the world. To give myself and others education. To see patterns of the world and pray for change.
I'm just rambling now, but it seems like the right thing to do...
Do you like garlic? I Love garlic! Garlic makes me happy!
I wonder if my history has caught up to me? You know, how I've been telling you about seeing my history in this area for a year or two, now, recently mentioning it coming near the present. Does any of this mean anything? I doubt it. Tomorrow, I'll wake up, get ready for work or to go get my check. I've heard that the schedule can change from day to day and if work is actually thinking of having me run the Hillsboro route on Fridays and Saturdays, maybe they'll pencil me in against my will and I'll be working 6 days in a row. I don't think so, though, because they must be paying the staffing agency at least $20 an hour for me. (Staffing agency=pimp).
Maybe I'm just trying to gather waking energy to get me through the day?
Either way, I feel like something is wrong in me now. Wrong, write, word, work, world...weird.
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