Not knowing is the worst possible feeling in the world.
Right now. I sort of vaguely know. so it's not that bad.
It's ambiguous. kind of foggy. but unnoticeable. 'cause I'm going through the motions and I'm distracted. focusing in the wrong place.
running while looking at my shoe laces. I don't see the brick wall in front of me. I can sense it.
it's coming towards me. about to hug me. tough love? I'll learn from it. to look up a bit more.
there's not knowing. there's knowing that I don't know. then there's knowing. and maybe some more steps in between.
right now. I know I don't know. or in other key-strokes, I mean, I know what I'm supposed to be doing, but I can't find the motivation to do it.
so I'm human. so what? I need some motivation here. it's running on E. internal motivation would be best.
I'll need the external to trigger what's inside me. 'cause it's hibernating. and it's time to look up. and hurdle over the brick wall.
Tuesday, April 21
Sunday, March 22
Undesigned
There's something about this blog that I miss. The unfilteredness of it all.
I miss writing to empty out all my thoughts. Is there an audience? Maybe. I don't want to write for you. I want to write for me.
And right now, there's this story that comes to mind. several, but those'll be in separate posts.
Back in Miami, I used to live in a gated community, we called them complexes. at our complex, we'd play some form of cops-n-robbers. maybe with a more updated and mature name. any reason to chase each other.
and we'd all be on roller blades. skate, skate, skate. then sprinting when pavement meets grass.
one of these times. I remember being chased. and I was getting tired. exhausted. it's what happens when you sprint. sprint 'til you're empty. and I was about to give up, 'cause I couldn't run any more. just stop running and let 'em catch me.
then I stop. he's catching up to me. and right at the moment where he tags me, I start running again. something kicks in. and says, nope. not now. so the tank goes beyond empty. at this point, I'm damaging something.
the feeling comes again. give up. no. yes. it's a game. big deal. no. can't lose. do it. and that's how it goes.
self-imposed mind games.
I miss writing to empty out all my thoughts. Is there an audience? Maybe. I don't want to write for you. I want to write for me.
And right now, there's this story that comes to mind. several, but those'll be in separate posts.
Back in Miami, I used to live in a gated community, we called them complexes. at our complex, we'd play some form of cops-n-robbers. maybe with a more updated and mature name. any reason to chase each other.
and we'd all be on roller blades. skate, skate, skate. then sprinting when pavement meets grass.
one of these times. I remember being chased. and I was getting tired. exhausted. it's what happens when you sprint. sprint 'til you're empty. and I was about to give up, 'cause I couldn't run any more. just stop running and let 'em catch me.
then I stop. he's catching up to me. and right at the moment where he tags me, I start running again. something kicks in. and says, nope. not now. so the tank goes beyond empty. at this point, I'm damaging something.
the feeling comes again. give up. no. yes. it's a game. big deal. no. can't lose. do it. and that's how it goes.
self-imposed mind games.
Tuesday, March 17
Life Support
This blog is in life support. it's been drying up like a neglected plant for a while now. wilting and wrinkling and shrinking.
stagnation kills.
stagnation kills.
Monday, March 2
Tuesday, February 24
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