Thoughts are like Farts

Realizing the limitations to the human design. We hunt, we gather. Surviving, barely, we make positions. World views. Generalizations. Assumptions. Rough guesstimations.

Every turn down every road leads us back to where we started. Because the questions that really matter in life cannot be researched and studied. Not in large part and not by those who research and study life without the faith of it. You can give me an answer to a question and what I realize is that I could live just as I did before, without it. To me it makes no change in my attempt at living successfully.

Human flaw: answering a question with a question. Hello people, punctuation? It’s a good tool to use when proofreading.

So here we are, just like the long road, looping around. What are we, why are we. Religion. No religion. Purpose? I have a view, you have a view.

I feel stunted at the place where, quite definitively, you tell me that a large part of my view is a generalization. Case in point. All views are generalizations. We can hope for the masses and that’s all we have.

You live your live, I’ll live mine. Until it’s over I’ll debate with you as to whom is doing it right.

Me.

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Today’s Musical Addiction

As titled above I have a soundtrack for life, lately. Pandora though, as I can see (hear), is limited.

Pandora Radio Station –  (Set by Song)  In for the Kill by La Roux

One word: Perfection. Another word: Amazing.

I think we all have those life instances, as in a movie, where we are walking down the street after a “moment” and the perfect soundtrack pops in our head. As if we could simultaneously be living and directing our own life. Sadly no. But how perfect would it be if some random stranger with a “boom box” walked by and that song popped on the radio.

I think as tweens in our many diary entries we should have written in what music we were addicted to. Of course the NOW album of the time could have informed us or at least remind us. But how would it be to have those soundtrack moments replayed to us, from our youth. Soundtracks, like the films themselves, thrust us back.

And who said time travel doesn’t exist?

Little and Big Wins

There has been so much sacrifice that I devour a chance to spend money on myself. Purely selfish. I also devour a chance to be social and have that be free. Little win.

1. Feeling I’m worthy to spend money on.
2. Being frugal and have it go unnoticed, it’s a turn on.

If I can go each day with a little win this year will rock.

Year goals for big wins:
1. Pay off Debts – credit card, dr bills, cell phone cancellations. (Car and student loan will remain gradual)
2. Gradually get more physically fit – health, appearance and mental.

Currently that’s the list. Yay for little wins.

Happy Anniversary

This time last year my relationship was in complete turmoil. The kind that makes you obsessively contemplate, “what will make this better?” Your desperation to fix your relationship is multiplied by your desire to no longer feel…destroyed. I’m not sure if that’s a strong enough word for how it feels when the world has lost it’s shape and all things seem to be unrecognizable.

Quite literally I was crushed. Crushed beneath the weight of it all. I couldn’t crawl my way out of the pit that I had fallen into. For some reason the happiness that I could have, easily, didn’t align with the happiness that he needed. And he would not live without what happiness he desired, there was no room for compromise. But to try to figure all of this out with someone who could not process their own feelings. What is there to fix?

Somehow we carried forward. Limping. And the emotional toll was taken from my body. My physical health deteriorated quickly with a flu that was unwavering followed by a cyst in my chest. Horrible. It was as if the emotional damage was taking a physical manifestation.

Fast forward.

Here I am again, the anniversary of it all. Divorce is final. Sickness has returned, as well as the cyst.

This just in

Right now I should be:

Riding my bike. Sunny day. Risky; wearing headphones. Pandora station picked. Every song epic in it’s ability to replay magical moments. Repetitive. The wheels, the pedals, the sidewalk, people walking. It’s all the same.

Small Bits

Driving. Ears clogged. I’m trapped in my own inner workings; digestion, realization, thought. Not in a bad way but almost in a comatose state. The thoughts are foggy, sounds echoed and I can’t get my mind to waver.

Pop. Pop. Ears trying to find some release. Here I release as well. Set free from the coma and thrust back into reality. Leaves me wondering, “When did I pass Fred Meyer’s?”

In these moments I’m trapped like the pages of a diary; forever reliving a moment. More a montage of moments but instantaneous. From listing off characteristics of a boy I like to speaking in code about my unhappiness.

What we write never is exactly how the moments play out. They can get close but the tangible note-book page feeling never gets there.

I wish words came with emoticons that you could press and actually feel that emotion. For what it was. For it’s complexity.

These waves help me process small bits of my life. What I feel, why I feel it. I like to understand. What I don’t understand is why I let myself get to these places where reflection is needed , “hindsight is 20/20.” I wish that in a moment I could pause and choose to continue. Yes or No. Sometimes clicking No.

I want to have more control.