awake at o-dark-thirty am yet again, i thought i’d come post ‘something’. but oddly enough, there’s not a lot of ‘something’ in my mind at the moment. so this is likely a ramble.
it has just started raining outside. i can tell because my neck isn’t hurting. heh. i should be a meteorologist with this neck, i swear. random thought, that. for the last two or three weeks, i’ve been waking up between 1 and 3am and find myself largely unable to get back to sleep.
sitting here waiting for a thought. i suppose that may sound strange. for all i am forever writing about this or that, my mind is generally very clear and not at all jumbled with thoughts. they tend to being fully reactive these days. so when i’m sitting here at an early hour, in the quiet, i find i often struggle for ‘something to say’.
hm.
that did the trick. hah.
it occurs to me that my creativity is largely reactive as well. some of my best writing has arrived on the heels of experience or in the wake of encounter with new friends. in this moment, i’m thinking about the waterfall of creativity that arrived upon meeting a certain person out west. and how it dried up. shakti and shiva, i suppose… i think i had it right (write?) when i mused upon the shaktism as the perfect metaphor for creative effort.
of course, here, it’s converse. i seem rather bland and blase without some form of shiva to inspire. or maybe it would be more accurate to say that i’m content to let it all wash about inside me until there’s someone to seek to inspire. hm. circles within circles, i suppose. interconnectedness. whatever.
the tiles are all but routine lately. i haven’t had an urge to verse or anything even remotely approximately the ‘lost pages’ series in months. i feel a bit stagnant. or maybe it’s over-ripe. how odd that they should be close enough to seem the same. but the feeling of anticipation or the impending is not here. it almost feels like ‘anti-Focus’ (you’d have to read here a bit to get that reference). vaguely disquieting.
this is a disjointed entry. it even feels so to me. i blame the hour.
i told a friend of mine the other night that the best thing to come out of the last two weeks of effort was the realization that getting out of the house is probably the only real missing component in finding contentment. it was a pensive thought…. for many reasons.
and, of course, the vast majority of optimism has sluiced away, leaving me feeling more than a little foolish. the understanding that i, too, am just as guilty of not being willing to ‘be’ what i would see is something i’m still not willing to look at full on.
a chuckle here, the immediate bit of humor at my own expense. nicholson in ‘as good as it gets’ asks a waiting room of therapy patients, “what if this is as good as it gets?” and Narrator quips from the corner, “if it is, it’s because that’s all you’re willing to allow.”
what a rude bitch she is. hah. don’t you hate it when you’re more honest than you wish you were?
i am considering what i want to do this weekend. i am determined not to spend it looking at these walls. i think dinner friday, bookstore/library saturday, and, weather permitting, a park on sunday. i’ll take the camera and see if i can manage some new texture shots. i’m tired of pulling source from google or people i know.
hm. a very soft yawn. maybe if i hurry, i can convince myself to sleep some more before i am supposed to be awake.