Something people tend to forget (myself included) is that I originally started this site for my writing. So I guess I need to spend a bit more time letting out the words that fill my head on a daily basis. If you normally visit for technical content, this may be a bit confusing. But if you know me, you understand that the mind I have never lets me rest. So here's some of what I would term 1/3 "prose poetry", 1/3 diary, 1/3 rant - Imagine this running through your head all day every day.
Every morning when the alarm goes off and I roll out of bed and step on the dog... Why does he insist on sleeping there when every morning he yelps as my feet hit his warm fur... there's a choice that has to be made, to get out of bed, to keep moving forward. The darkness of the room, of the world beyond the shades makes me long to crawl back into the green cotton with the Martha Stewart tag and escape back to my dreams where I can control the choices, the paths to take. In dreams I can stop myself from falling, I can fly away into the sky. I am free.
But every morning I follow the path at my feet and try to forget the points where other paths diverged. Because a life full of indecision is actually better than a life of regret. Yet you only get once chance, one life. I often wonder if there really is a destiny for each spark inside a woman's body, a predetermined path. So that all the choices I've made are already picked from the moment of conception. And if so why should I waste my time on regret?
But I don't believe in fate.
Often that regret lives, growing like the weeds that clutter the landscaping in my yard, choking the flowers and old mulch in a profusion of prickers and dandelion fluff. And I want to rip the regret away, suffocate it in the compost pile. I can't find gloves that fit my tiny hands. Or the real desire to do the work. It's work, and when I pull out the weeds another hundred have grown. Too much regret, too many weeds, too many choices I wish I'd never made, too many places I wish I'd let my feet wander. The impulsiveness of my nature makes me long for stability, normalcy, to be "just like everyone else". I need an anchor or I drift along wildly. No matter how hard I chase that dream, when I follow that path I feel so alone. Because I'm not normal and I don't belong.
That is the hardest thing to face every day. I'm alone in an empty room, alone in a crowded room, alone in bed even with a body beside me. Always feeling on the edge of life, watching people do the normal things. I feel like a voyeur, like the man behind the glass observing the strangeness of the people in the room beyond. I take notes, write about them later. A night in front of the TV doesn't appeal to me. Why didn't I think about this before? Why does it bother me? Am I really so different? I'm a hamster in the wheel running round and round. And yet, unlike the hamster I know I'm running foolishly. I can't step off. How do you step off when so many other people rely on your choices. And they have no recourse if you decide to try to fly. They know what happens when you try to fly. Icarus should have listened after all.
Foolish. Perhaps that's the word to sum up how I feel. Stupid. Should I not be content? They were my choices, my decisions, my chance to follow the smooth easy path or the one filled with ruts. But it has been better for those close to me. And now I'm in a golden cage where I should be happy, singing of how easy life is, how I am given good food, a nice place to sleep, and a pet on the head from my master when I sing pretty.
I don't want to sing. Because it's not enough. I'm greedy, selfish. I want more. I want to be the sun.
I read a book in which a man said he'd be the sun and shine upon those he loves. I don't want to wait for the sun to shine upon me. What use is the sun if it turns itself off? Just... look at me, notice me, talk to me. And turn the damn TV off.
Too much to ask I know. After all, I spend all this time in front of the screen. Here I talk to people with words when voices can't navigate the bits. Here people know what I feel ... here I am the sun. So I won't sit in front of the TV with you. If I can be shined upon, I will shine.
And the day is bright and another long walk down my road goes on... and I see a path I might just follow. And it might be hell... or heaven. I don't know. Maybe I don't care. At least I won't be like the dog, chasing my tail. After all, when I catch it what do I do? He bites it and yelps. I'm not that masochistic.
Then again, maybe I am. I like to hurt because I feel alive.
For today I'll just eye that path and wonder if I have the nerve to be impulsive again.