today was another kind of low energy day. i did a sort of rush job on a farewell present for someone who's retiring from our school, and then blitzed over to whitmore village to deliver it. after that, most of the day was kind of blah. i did go shopping with lynn, and got a few things i needed (although i forgot about something critical, another something for someone else who's leaving my school). my feelings are kind of ambivalent about contributing to that particular someone's farewell, but i do think that people need my help. my wife thinks i shouldn't, there once was a time when i felt really low, like quitting from my school, due to this sense of ostracism that i felt, and this from people who up until then, i felt had my back. i guess i kind of forget about it, i mean, i don't ever, not really, but i get over it, and i function. but anyway, my wife thinks i shouldn't do anything more. but i guess i am still a sucker, a "helper." so i guess i will end up helping anyway.
*****
i had a thought about how we keep imagining that the attentions of another will somehow remake us. like maybe if someone were interested in me, then i would suddenly be interestING. but hey, i've been around this bozo long enough to know that, well, i'm not particularly fun to be around. i abide in deep silences. i'm always secretly compelled by this hidden mission or something inside my head. i can't really relax and have fun. i always imagine, that maybe with the right someone, it would be different. but it's all a lie, it's all a fiction...
sometimes it seems different, if it appears that i could make someone happier. but really, how long would that last? in the end, the illusions and the "misunderstandings" surrounding each and every one of us fade, and we are left with- well, with ourselves.
so i was thinking about this with relation to my conception of the "switch" that i had a couple of days ago. and how attention or no attention, the fixation is- seemingly inescapable. well, as gi joe says, knowing is half the battle. maybe awareness of this ridiculous fixation is part of how i dislodge myself from it. that is the hope, anyway...
*****
i think last night, i was fixated on... well. it's hard to say. but let's just say it's strange how certain appetites can seem eternal, they can seem to make promises of time stretching forever, but then once they reach a certain point of satiety, then all of a sudden those promises seem banal and silly... and then you are left with a kind of disappointment. because all of a sudden, you no longer want anything particularly much. and then you are left wondering, is life just about wanting things? about wanting and not getting them, or wanting and getting them? is want what stretches us into time?
what if, deep down, i don't really want anything?
*****
currently, i'm off track as far as writing "stories" or "poems" or anything formal. when i write in the notebook i've started, it's just a mad rush to put my thoughts down onto paper. i would say it's not as restless as that "writing down the bones" author spoke of, but it is still a kind of compulsion. i feel better about that kind of writing, because it seems truer. it doesn't allow pauses. i hate pauses. pauses are the discontinuities that force you to question yourself. to hate yourself...
i was thinking that a lot of what i am is infected by this insinuation, this despising voice... it hurts. and so i hide. i depart and i hide. i just want to live, with no pain. feeling the plenitude of being, blind if necessary. i don't want to see, because seeing hurts. seeing is shame. that's the underlying truth. maybe everything i am or do is in response to this fundamental pain. and that's where this whole salvific notion comes from, that maybe in the attentions of the right eyes, i could be redeemed. transformed into something that is free from any reproach. something that is immune.
i suppose that that's one of the reasons i don't like interacting with people nowadays. i can suffer my own illusions when i'm working with myself, but sometimes when i interact with people, all of a sudden, my whole narrative, my whole edifice that i've built up in my head, it just tumbles to the ground, and i'm left feeling incredibly stupid and empty. and i hate that feeling. i hate that more than anything in the world...
i just want to feel normal... easy. that's really all i want.
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