Waiting

Its either really late or really early, I'll leave you to decide. I should be in bed fast asleep. Don't feel all that far from it actually, just not quite there yet. Still too many thoughts pouncing in my poor wee skull for a peaceful slumber. So I come to you dear void, to banish all excess energy (good or bad) into this vacuum of cyberspace.

As the title so simply suggests, I am in waiting. And I actually have a pretty decent clue as to what I am waiting for. You see I am currently in this rare fickle spot in my life. For the fist time I know just what I want and where I am going. I have a clear and achievable path set ahead that I look forward to without any trace (yet) of my usual fear.

Patience however, is not strong in me. In order to have the clear and simple path, I have to find mine deep...deep inside me. The program I am in has many benefits, school paid in full and job placement assistance. But only if I follow the rules and keep with the process they set. No striking out on my own, no deviation from the plan. All of which I am happy to fulfill just at the chance to better my circumstances.

It has been over a decade since I had any kind of handle on my life. I know in my head that there is no harm in the waiting, but my heart wants to make up for all the time lost. As if could live the past ten years over again in a few short weeks. Logically I know better, but that logic doesn't translate so well to the rest of me.

The past is lost, the future doesn't even exist. All I have now is this moment in front of a computer screen. The only consolation I have is that I know I'm on the right path. Of course there is no proof that I am, just a stern faith that maintains some sort of sanity.

Blown

Weird night, nervous energy coursing through the house. Could be all the sugar I've ingested today, the packed day I have planned tomorrow, or the fact that our trusty bathroom nightlight just blew.

In its final death throes, the damn thing exploded the bulb in its base. Popped the glass top right off and filled it with soot. This was no older bulb in need of changing either, it was one we had put in not three hours before as we were leaving the house.

Nothing was destroyed, not a trace of smoke or fire aside from the bulbs inside. But I can't stop thinking of how it would of been if it had caught on something. Maybe the wood frame around the mirror, the cardboard box holding the sink we have yet to install, or the walls themselves.

Its hardly something you think of happening...until it does. Even a minor, almost non-existent, scare like this makes you examine just what you have to loose. Three cats, several irreplaceable family heirlooms, pictures dating back well over a century, books...obviously the list goes on forever.

Every physical and material thing that defines me, my history and my family is all in this one house. All the eggs in one basket so to speak. So how do they do it? How do people loose all these precious things without loosing themselves? For its happened many times before, and it will many times again.

For that matter, how has society come to define individuals by their possessions anyway? Why does this room I'm in scream ME. Am I somewhere in the papers containing all my story ideas, or in the miscellaneous junk and knick-knacks I tuck all around? Logically no, but would I feel the sting of loosing these any less knowing this? 

I'm in too deep, even for my watery Pisces self. Time to let this matter sleep dear void, and so shall I.

Late Night Musings

I find it interesting, considering there is a perfectly good (if dusty) desk not four feet away with better lighting and seating, that I remain here. Sprawled out on my bed stomach first, my back aching to be flat and buried in my mattress.

You see dear void, this is it. This is the position I always find myself in around now. Tired and in want of a quiet mind, I am safest just as I am. Consider it my own personal fetal position. The only thing that changes is what I keep in front of me in times like these.

Tonight its my laptop, tomorrow it might be a book, a journal (of which I have many) the following night. Whatever dispels my nervous energy in the most efficient manner is what I choose. Already online and curled up nicely in bed, my mothers humming/snoring/something the only distracting/comforting sound I hear, another entry seemed convenient enough.

Now with three paragraphs that say and mean absolutely nothing, what kind of point could I make? Is there even a point to be made?