I dropped my book. It flopped open and a bunch of pages got creased. Worse yet, all those pages are dirty. I really want to tear out those pages and skip ahead to the next part. Damn it though, that's not the way it works. Dirt and wrinkles aside, the story is still as written. Who am I to change it?
Only it's
my story.
So I dive in head first. Eff the feet first method. I'm not playing around right now. Give me a minute. I'm either going to break my head open or make some major headway, because the safe approach has made me little more than sorry.
What am I talking about?
it's very easy to say [you're] in a better place, but... I personally... want to be selfish enough to say I wish [you] were still here - Can't Stop This - The Roots
And that's part of my reality. No matter how much you try and clean things up and look forward, you look down and see your feet in the mud. And no, it hasn't rained in a long time. But your eyes are left burning.
There are a few things that help me keep my sanity between the idle joblessness condition and the stress.
- music: Game Theory, As Cruel as School Children, Misery Loves Comedy, Corinne Bailey Rae
- washing dishes (i don't know why)
- basketball
- driving and racing video games
- good talks
In the meantime, there's enough impending doom on the horizon to crush any hope. The impending move from Madrona... trying to find a new place to live... full time work... taxes... another school year not spent in school... gas prices... It's really not bad, but I do better under pressure.
Once in a while, I forget about the actual pages and get pulled into the story.
