5.01.2007
my focus is sheer. it isn't even a tangible concept any more. it is so transparent i can see into the next thousand things i need to think about in my life (there would be no hope of making accenting a dress with this fabric, although, it can swirl and twirl and shrink and paint the sky when the wind catches it). i can hardly think of the words to write. it has taken me about 10 minutes to produce this paragraph.
i'm fighting a few battles right now, but one of the biggest battles is my battle with words. i don't know what to say anymore or how to express myself. the casualties of this battle bleed onto other battle fields. i have to write a paper....speak in italian....tell people what is going on....read economics tests...order my turkeywrapnocheeselettucetomatohoneymustdard and i'll take skim milk and fruit for sides. i used to have a good relationship with words and language. it turns out to be tougher for me than i thought. that seems to be the trend in my life right now. things are hard. and i'm discouraged. and disappointment floods my thoughts faster than rain water floods campus.
i want to sit in a caribou coffee, sip my black coffee, eat my reduced fat mountain berry muffin, read "chuck klosterman iv" and "the fountainhead" at my own leisure, and enjoy life. without feeling guilt. and why shouldn't i? why can't i?
i'm struggling to find purpose in myself/the things i enjoy.
i'm fighting a few battles right now, but one of the biggest battles is my battle with words. i don't know what to say anymore or how to express myself. the casualties of this battle bleed onto other battle fields. i have to write a paper....speak in italian....tell people what is going on....read economics tests...order my turkeywrapnocheeselettucetomatohoneymustdard and i'll take skim milk and fruit for sides. i used to have a good relationship with words and language. it turns out to be tougher for me than i thought. that seems to be the trend in my life right now. things are hard. and i'm discouraged. and disappointment floods my thoughts faster than rain water floods campus.
i want to sit in a caribou coffee, sip my black coffee, eat my reduced fat mountain berry muffin, read "chuck klosterman iv" and "the fountainhead" at my own leisure, and enjoy life. without feeling guilt. and why shouldn't i? why can't i?
i'm struggling to find purpose in myself/the things i enjoy.
