Hey, what's up?
I'm not quite sure about what I've been up to, which is not to say that life's been boring. A lot has been happening but I'm just not sure what it's all about?
So anyway, I decided to apply a second blob of myolaxin and write some of this out just to clear my head. It's been very non co-operative for the past two days....aching and dithering, determined to dupe me into wearing the grumpy hat when I'm not looking.
I suppose it started with the startling realisation that I'm going to be alone for the rest of my life. Also when 60 comes knocking at my door, I probably won't have grandkids rushing in to help me answer the door. Which was harsh. Rather harsh. A series of calls and voice notes followed to people....like I was rallying support to build some sort of an army. Some joined in.. played along, some said "erm. calm your tits you haven't made it out of the terrible twenties yet. What if you decide to go all kurt cobain on your ass?" ... others chose to remain silent. I am grateful for their patience and the innate ability to tolerate.
I've been collecting books though- books that I must read, magazines I must subscribe to. I get frequent article updates on Twitter and the "must must must" iness seems to be gathering the look of a mountain now. And this is not even work related. "This is about chasing your dreams, D, " I tell myself. So it must be done. Which is all very fine... except where is this all moving towards I ask myself. What's the big fucking picture? What are you getting at? And before my mind can come up with an answer or finish the "activity" at hand I find myself staring at a mute video of how to use a stove top espresso maker while microwaving a plate of rice for dinner. Day's over, your time's up, a voice announces cheerily like those annoying PA System speakers.
Does this how it always go then... you go to bed sleep..and start again and keep at it till time's up again? It strikes me how very similar to life every day is. One life. One day. Sleep. Die. But it all must stop. Some time. That thought is both comforting and saddening at the same time. Like a strange song that you know is sad...but you also can't or rather won't...stop listening or loving.
And so I don't stop....because the stopping is pre destined. The rest isn't. I tell myself that if I keep going then I won't have to worry about the bad things.
Must. Not. Stop. Another addition to "must must must" - y list. :)
Also, as long as I dream about hot surgeons while my hips are getting chopped off I'm going to be fine. That should be some sort of a maxim right?
I'm just copy pasting screen shots of a whatsapp conversation (so you know what I mean, I am random but not that random) here because technology allows me to.