ONE HOUR

Wednesday, February 25, 2009

One hour.
My mind goes blank
The second I begin to relieve my stress by paper i am confronted by a mental block. The thoughts don't turn into words. The daily process and weight which lies on my shoulders to remember.

The thoughts
feelings
friends
goodbyes
kisses
hugs
winks
thankyous
school
persuits
song
music
dance
open rooms

One hour I have left free. This hour is not dedicated to anyone. This hour I can comsume all of my thoughts into one emotion. Wrap it up in a sausage bite and scouv it down. I dont like sausage bites so mabe i delicious apple. A crisp bite consumed with chaotic daily junk. Taught blabber which goes in one ear and comes out the other. The pointlessness in attendance. I can do it myself. I can read I understand meaningfull concepts. That which is read I learn, that which is spoken I remember, that which is tested then I easily forget. Why is this? I remember the importances instances I believe. What matters that I have a midterm on Thursday, I enjoyed a night of relaxation and contempt that I shared whith a dear friend. I was free for a night, although the image of my eyes suffered dearly from my pleasure the ngiht before, I have no regrets. Only a determination to not make this particular event a reacurring place.

Poetry. About kiss.
Something which was read can bring about an incredible emotion. And with that emotion a possibilty of an enlightening outcome. A kiss. The kiss that outlasts all thoughts, all circumstances.
15 minutes in...

My mind is racing. I think I have a certain tendency to interupt. Myself as well as others. I have certain thoguhts, which often if not voiced or typed are lost forever. A talent of mine which I cherish and hate all together. Its like a delicius pie mixed with a flow of tears. The sadness which is cured with

I am unsuccessfully distraught and confused. But am I? Am i really feeling down? Or does my mind play tricks on me. I focus so closley on what needs to be done, where I need to be, what I need to do to accomplish. Acomplish what? Defintaley not an accomplishment which brings peace, or the image of a calm lake into my state of mind. The accomplishemnt today is a struggle between want and need. Do i need to go to class today? Or can I skip it just this once. Do i have to wave to a friend I pass on the quad who I havent seen in months, even though a feel and look horrible. The night before brought a lovely glistening moon cresent purched below my two eyes. I do it anyway. It was surprisingly pleasent. She told me she wanted to cut her bangs becaus she saw a picture of mine on facebook. Facebook. I believe that is a whole other dimension I might touch on later.

Need. I need to enojoy the relaxation the wonderfull weather has brought today. This is true enjoyent has definatley grown from want to need. I believe it is absolutley nesecary to bask in the present world. You can grow from it.

Another encounter today. Kinsey. Oh Kinsey, she is quite amazing.After stronlgy encouraging me to skip work in order to acheive a few of my wants and needs I was struck with a silly thought. She brought me a vent. She became my vent. She did nothing, she was herself. But her self allowed a certain GUSH or water to break down my building blocks of walls which began I beleieve the night before.

Google Blogging. 30 Minutes down. 30 Minutes to go.

I gained this funny technique from a close friend. Instead of writing then editing, then posting, then re-writing, then saving, then sending, then shutting down. I simply write. I write into this one medium which somehow miraculously saves my thoughts in a world or clutter, which interestingly enough I can understand and mediate trhough. I no longer write in a medium which forces me later to share my thoguhts. I write here. It is raw. The commas are defintaley not where they should be. I do not scroll back to tweek the annoying squiggly red line. It is MY mistake. Im not perfect, and neither are my tiny fingers which have trouble skiiping through the letters uniqley arranged on the baord. I let the mistakes become character. For my character is definaltey not brought about by strucure. There is no structur ein my thoughts. I do not have bins or shelves in my mind organizing the important thoughts from the sad thoughts. The delightfull memories from my worst nightmares. They come to me in a constant flow of being. I smell, then I remember. I see, then I remember. Each particular encounter with sense brings a thought. I do however often wish I could peek into the thoughts of others. You know those thought that race your mind while your doing the most indecent lame instances of tasks.

While your brushing your teeth. My mind thinks. I wonder if I will ever enjoy coffee. While I hopelessly search for my keys and phone. Is there someone watching me perform this daily task? Are they sitting, purched on a cloud eating Philidalphea cream cheese (like in the commercials) laughing histerically at me because they know exactly where I left my phone. Are they asking all of there friends to come and watch this particular episode. I have become a regular morning ritual. "Watch this guys, she lost her keys again" Do they replay the funny episodes? Like when I thoght it would actually help me remember to put my keys in the most unusual place ever. I searched for them for hours. I had to skip dinner because I could not lock the door. When I finally decided it would be impossible and rude to show up an hour late I began rummaging the fridge to find something quick to whip up. I settled with salad, not impressive I must agree. But since I was good with dinner I figured I would slam it off with a sweet desert. KEYS! Sitting frost bitten and bold where my keys, right next to my lovely pound of choclate swirl delight. I embraced the moment, laughed, even though no one was around, and fully enjoyed my bowl of pleasure.
Why does food bring pleasure?
And with that pleasure drags regret.

15 minutes to go.
I think I'll stop.
That felt good.

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