(no subject)
There's this commercial for... I dunno'. Car perfomance issues. Maybe a motor oil? It shows one car pulling a safe, and then another with a grand piano chained to it.
They then go to one pulling an anchor. But the way they film it, it starts out looking like a cross.
I looked over to Erin, and I'm like, "Yeah, God is my Co-Pilot. But I'm dragging Jesus."
She liked that a lot, and told me to remember it for her. I guess that's why I have this journal, for crap like that.
Being sick is just a pain, but I've learned to love it. My ears go out of usability every three-to-ten minutes, and then won't come back for hours. I was yawning and swallowing so much to try to pop them that I got a throat infection, right as my cough had started to go away. I have, in fact, been without normal hearing now for roughly three months or so. Since a lot of my day at work has me being paged from area to area, it's affecting my job greatly, but no so much that I actually care.
Tomorrow we're planning to go see Batman Begins. I assume it'll be loud enough for me to hear, either way.
Dante has taken to sleeping on my desk, next to my keyboard. He's made a bed of the stack of radom papers and bills I have sitting here, pillowing his head on the stuffed Grover my mother sent me for Christmas. He only comes over here when I'm at the computer, but it must be pretty comfortable, because I walked away from my desk for a couple hours the other day, and when I came back he was still snoozing.
I find that I've been rather detatched lately, from just about everything. It's part of what Erin and I talked about the other night. The only thing I think that I really find myself feeling stable with is my cat, normally when he's sleeping on me. Oh, and comics or tv, but that's because I feel more at ease in things that are not of my own reality. Honestly, I've never been all that attached to the world around me. It's just that, lately, I feel like I've totally lost grip on the cord that keeps me tethered here. I feel like a stranger in the places I frequent the most, be it home, work, my car, my friends' homes... Kinda' like when you go to an old house or school or something that you knew growing up, but you haven't been to in years. And you walk in, and it's almost familiar, but still incredibly alien, like it should be more yours than it is. I feel like that all the time. Erin assumes I'm depressed. I don't know that that's what it is. I don't feel sad so much as just... empty. And I know it's been a long time building. Before I could kind of tell I was just spinning my wheels, like I was doing things out of either habit or necessity. Lately, though, I find I'm not even doing that. I don't care about paying my bills. I rented some DVDs and I kept them over a week late. Which is fine for a lot of people (certainly for Erin and her mom), but that's not me. I'm usually the one who goes nuts about that stuff, and I find I just don't care at all.
Likewise, I used to stay awake nights thinking about stuff, normally thinking in the voices of the people I write. Kaln and Gromm, Colin and Syl. Lately, the only words I hear in my head are statements of how I think I'm failing, or why I want to step down from a leadership position at work. And that's when I think at all. Mostly, I come home, I get through a bit of TV or internet, and I go to sleep. This is the latest I've been up since I got back, I think, and it's only because Erin and I were watching TV together after getting some groceries. I just have no inspiration in me right now. And not having the voices, I feel... almost lonely. Like they were the last bit of life I had, people who still wished, who still yearned and loved and had lives and things they wanted to say. And now that they're being so quiet, I don't have anything left.
Which, you know, isn't true. Not exactly. I just... I think I'm just tired. I think I'm tired of what I've been doing, but I haven't been able to figure out what it is I want to do in place of it yet. So I'm just... floating. I'm suspended in a very drawn-out middle ground, and I'd propel myself out of it if I could just find a direction to go in. Erin asked me if I didn't want to live, but what I really feel like is that I don't really know how. I'm not suicidal at all. I'm just stumped.
Last night I dreamt that I was going on some long trip to some faraway country. Not sure where, but some place very foreign to me. Not because I wanted to get away, but out of some obligation, like it was work related, only I was mostly going to help fix some people's lives and relationships. But I was in a train station, waiting to get on the road, and I wound up in some sort've waiting room/lounge area. There was a tv with some DVDs you had to pay to rent, and nothing really interesting to choose from, so I just kinda' sat back and let the others decide. And some girl was talking to me, and then pulled me over to the kids section, and we played with toy cars, and some dolls (okay, action figures to me, but they're still dolls), and other knicknack stuff that can be fun when you're six or seven. And I was just amazed that me and this girl (and by girl I mean young woman, not a child) were just sitting here playing with all this stuff. And I felt... like I should be enjoying it more. I felt, when I woke up and looked at it with the unobjective mind of a person no longer in a dream, that this was something in me trying to tell me that I should be having fun like that, that I should be able to lose myself in my creativity, my silliness or whatnot. But I still couldn't accept it. I was still just going through the motion of it, instead of honestly enjoying it.
That's not me. So, I'm left to ask, who am I now? And why?
Erin would like to be tucked in now.
They then go to one pulling an anchor. But the way they film it, it starts out looking like a cross.
I looked over to Erin, and I'm like, "Yeah, God is my Co-Pilot. But I'm dragging Jesus."
She liked that a lot, and told me to remember it for her. I guess that's why I have this journal, for crap like that.
Being sick is just a pain, but I've learned to love it. My ears go out of usability every three-to-ten minutes, and then won't come back for hours. I was yawning and swallowing so much to try to pop them that I got a throat infection, right as my cough had started to go away. I have, in fact, been without normal hearing now for roughly three months or so. Since a lot of my day at work has me being paged from area to area, it's affecting my job greatly, but no so much that I actually care.
Tomorrow we're planning to go see Batman Begins. I assume it'll be loud enough for me to hear, either way.
Dante has taken to sleeping on my desk, next to my keyboard. He's made a bed of the stack of radom papers and bills I have sitting here, pillowing his head on the stuffed Grover my mother sent me for Christmas. He only comes over here when I'm at the computer, but it must be pretty comfortable, because I walked away from my desk for a couple hours the other day, and when I came back he was still snoozing.
I find that I've been rather detatched lately, from just about everything. It's part of what Erin and I talked about the other night. The only thing I think that I really find myself feeling stable with is my cat, normally when he's sleeping on me. Oh, and comics or tv, but that's because I feel more at ease in things that are not of my own reality. Honestly, I've never been all that attached to the world around me. It's just that, lately, I feel like I've totally lost grip on the cord that keeps me tethered here. I feel like a stranger in the places I frequent the most, be it home, work, my car, my friends' homes... Kinda' like when you go to an old house or school or something that you knew growing up, but you haven't been to in years. And you walk in, and it's almost familiar, but still incredibly alien, like it should be more yours than it is. I feel like that all the time. Erin assumes I'm depressed. I don't know that that's what it is. I don't feel sad so much as just... empty. And I know it's been a long time building. Before I could kind of tell I was just spinning my wheels, like I was doing things out of either habit or necessity. Lately, though, I find I'm not even doing that. I don't care about paying my bills. I rented some DVDs and I kept them over a week late. Which is fine for a lot of people (certainly for Erin and her mom), but that's not me. I'm usually the one who goes nuts about that stuff, and I find I just don't care at all.
Likewise, I used to stay awake nights thinking about stuff, normally thinking in the voices of the people I write. Kaln and Gromm, Colin and Syl. Lately, the only words I hear in my head are statements of how I think I'm failing, or why I want to step down from a leadership position at work. And that's when I think at all. Mostly, I come home, I get through a bit of TV or internet, and I go to sleep. This is the latest I've been up since I got back, I think, and it's only because Erin and I were watching TV together after getting some groceries. I just have no inspiration in me right now. And not having the voices, I feel... almost lonely. Like they were the last bit of life I had, people who still wished, who still yearned and loved and had lives and things they wanted to say. And now that they're being so quiet, I don't have anything left.
Which, you know, isn't true. Not exactly. I just... I think I'm just tired. I think I'm tired of what I've been doing, but I haven't been able to figure out what it is I want to do in place of it yet. So I'm just... floating. I'm suspended in a very drawn-out middle ground, and I'd propel myself out of it if I could just find a direction to go in. Erin asked me if I didn't want to live, but what I really feel like is that I don't really know how. I'm not suicidal at all. I'm just stumped.
Last night I dreamt that I was going on some long trip to some faraway country. Not sure where, but some place very foreign to me. Not because I wanted to get away, but out of some obligation, like it was work related, only I was mostly going to help fix some people's lives and relationships. But I was in a train station, waiting to get on the road, and I wound up in some sort've waiting room/lounge area. There was a tv with some DVDs you had to pay to rent, and nothing really interesting to choose from, so I just kinda' sat back and let the others decide. And some girl was talking to me, and then pulled me over to the kids section, and we played with toy cars, and some dolls (okay, action figures to me, but they're still dolls), and other knicknack stuff that can be fun when you're six or seven. And I was just amazed that me and this girl (and by girl I mean young woman, not a child) were just sitting here playing with all this stuff. And I felt... like I should be enjoying it more. I felt, when I woke up and looked at it with the unobjective mind of a person no longer in a dream, that this was something in me trying to tell me that I should be having fun like that, that I should be able to lose myself in my creativity, my silliness or whatnot. But I still couldn't accept it. I was still just going through the motion of it, instead of honestly enjoying it.
That's not me. So, I'm left to ask, who am I now? And why?
Erin would like to be tucked in now.