Tuesday, May 17, 2005

bah humbug

lucy.jpg

You know. My regularity in falling off the ends of my own internet earth for stretches of time is similar to how almost every weekday morning I wake up, I'm convinced that I'm feeling really under the weather, ill, dying... can't... go... to... work. And then I remember, well I can't just skip over to my evening yoga class later on across the street from work like nothing is wrong and really understand the lifting of the heart. I wouldn't be able to look my true strong self in the eye. Obviously I still know very little about yoga and now that I think about being able to look at your own eyes, it gets both really confusing and creepy.

Unfortunately, I've discovered, since I don't have the aid of such things as focus, drive, cut-throat ambition, or ADD medication, I can't be a long distance runner. I know nothing about pacing and I don't know where I'm headed. I go through these good periods of time and bad periods in alternating spurts -- everything becoming more pronounced over the last few years -- a really slow, actually rather dull rollercoaster where the ups are like, small Teletubby hills. Except the actual going through my days seem uphill themselves, mountains, with goats frolicking and laughing at me and then eating my scarf with goatly bahs of relish. A sort of flirtation with depression, whether its real or imagined or self-indulgent or goatly or otherwise, it comes in and out like a radio station with iffy reception.

Trying is trying. Keep on, keep on. Something like that. Baah.

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