The Way Things Go

11:50 p.m.

Often, I get excited about things.  The excitement is blinding in its quickness and its intensity.  It fades, sooner than I expect it to, every time.
There are others things which I am rarely expressively excited about, but I keep coming back to them over and over because I really do love them.  They stick.

In my excited micro-explosions, I feel as though I know so much; in my quiet, insistent, tenacious love affairs, I tend to feel about as knowledgeable and capable as an infant camel.  Maybe that's okay.  Maybe that's what learning is.

———

12:03 a.m.

Sometimes ignorance and knowledge both feel like sickness.  Sometimes, I'm afraid that people will stop learning about things that are important, and even people who do want to refine themselves with learning and truth and real knowledge will be culturally corralled into having useless fluff stuffed into their brains 90% of the time instead.  Sometimes I'm afraid that people will know too much and the whole world will turn into a Gambit Pileup of everyone trying to pull others' strings, and we'll never know who's going what way.  Sometimes I want to hole up and have no contact with anyone because I'm afraid someone will bleed on me at the wrong angle and it will be the break point that kills the infinitely fragile person lurking inside this thing called myself.

———

12:20 a.m.

Every once in a while, I wonder if I am a good person at all.  Jesus said no one is good except the Father.  But then, I think that Paul said later on (post-Crucifixion/Resurrection/Holy Spirit outpouring, amazing etc.) that the Father sees Jesus when He looks at us, and Jesus was the image of the Father.  But sometimes I wonder if there really is too much darkness in me.  And really—if I can't get rid of it once and for all, why can I not at least channel it?  I could do great things with darkness.  Instead I'm squashed up in some inexistent corner, horribly terrified and horrifically angry and wrenchingly sad and much too apathetic to do anything about anything.  This is dark, and I know it, and for now I will refuse to care, even peripherally understanding that later I will know this isn't me, or not me in my entirety.

———

12:40 a.m.

Tell me, where do existentialism and faith diverge?

———

12:42 a.m.

Be still, and know that I am God.
~
Speak, Lord, for your servant is listening.

———

12:55 a.m.

Sometimes it takes some good, hard thinking to ready one's mind to listen.  Sometimes, thoughts can be exhausted to emptiness.  Noise might be a gateway to silence, and silence a slippery road to clarity, or to peace, or to something else that we need.  Sometimes, it is desperation and not satisfaction that draws us upwards.

once when i was a kid

i had a dream that the moon was my best friend and i was on a road trip and the moon and i talked to each other and then our car went around a bend and the moon couldn't see me any more and it cried and my dream self fell asleep and when my dream self woke up the moon had died and my dream self had gotten younger than my real self

it was all very odd and sad

i don't know why i'm thinking about this dream today, either

summer so far

is not as stress-free as I was hoping for.
I'm not being productive, which was nice for a few days, and now I'm feeling slightly horrible.  I'm being somewhat productive nonproductively (i.e., taking a break in rejuvenating ways, like reading) but also in eughwhwhwwheehh ways (like watching TV shows I don't really care about, just because I can),and that's what feels rotten.
I'm also sleeping a lot.  Like, staying up semi-late, until perhaps two a.m., and then sleeping until noon or two p.m., for no observable reason.  And then I still feel tired and yawn a lot later.
I also have this weird sensation of not knowing anything.  Like, my brain's gotten used to exerting itself all the time, and now that it doesn't have to, I feel rather set adrift.  Maybe I genuinely miss writing papers, even though I had to write a couple dozen of them in the last few weeks of the semester and I was sick to death of them then.  Essays = quantifiable output of creative brainpower.
I'm not really hanging out with my friends any more than before, even though we theoretically all have more free time.  And that sucks, because that always happens to me in the summer, and I hate it.
I have emails I need to reply to, and emails I need to write, and they're not urgent, but still kind of important, because I want to be a good person and not leave emails unanswered.  I've put them off just long enough to make replying awkward, and I have no excuse except that I historically am terrible at replying to anything in a timely manner.
I need to clean my room and do laundry and start throwing out/reorganizing/packing things for the move, which is in like two months  O_O

But I want a break.
But I want to do things.
I have writer's block, which always sucks, and right now it sucks more than usual because I have time and mental energy to devote to writing in earnest for the first time in weeks and I can't think of anything I can take seriously.

THERE IS SO MUCH I COULD BE ACCOMPLISHING AND I'M NOT AND THIS APPLYING-FOR-JOBS THING SCARES THE LIVING DAYLIGHTS OUT OF ME AND I JUST GENERALLY DON'T KNOW WHAT I'M DOING.

Also, I ate too much brie cheese earlier and now I have a stomachache.

Meh.


[Please pardon my liberality with sentence structure in this post.  I am feeling considerably more colloquial than loquacious tonight.]

transmogrification of sounds

Some nights, I make a playlist of an hour's worth of different genres just to see what they look like behind my eyes in the dark.

LOVE AND ANGST AND ANGST AND LOVE

I've noticed I often write very effusive comments on people's blogs.  I try not to say things more long-windedly than necessary, but sometimes I just really do have a lot to say, and sometimes I feel impelled to repeat things for emphasis (insert meme here).  I hope this isn't bothersome.  Even when the comments sometimes turn out as long as the original post.

{You should see what it looks like when I write really introspective and emotional posts.  Those rarely get published simply because they're very, very long.  I don't even know how many are sitting in my drafts folder.}

This is turning into one of those nights when I want to quote lyrics from Underoath's "They're Only Chasing Safety" album until you can feel the vibrations from the metalcore and emotions coming out my ears.