Streams of…

Over the course of this month I have deleted far too many posts before they could become entries. I find myself not only editing my novel, but revising my thoughts before they can be set down in what passes for digital stone here at WordPress.

The days that flow backward behind me start to make a strange sort of sense in that regard.

I don’t feel feelings like this. I tend to experience life in a rather more cerebral way.

Analyze, categorize; nearly always neatly shelving everything I don’t need to survive.

What does one do when the parameters for survival shift dramatically to one side or the other?

When something simply passes right through the oh-so-carefully constructed wall?

Analysis is no help, there are no tangible explanations for what is coursing through me on a now-near-constant basis.

I feel somehow lost and found simultaneously.

I could continue and list many more polar opposites that would add both word count and descriptors to this post, but I’ll spare you (my scant readership) an overly-verbose accounting of the aforementioned phenomenon.

Yes, I just did that. I think that it’s something we’ve all made peace with here at curro ergo sum.

Back to my quasi-ephemeral discourse on my current existential dilemma. Oh my, I absolutely love that sentence. It says almost nothing while subtly (where are sarcasm brackets when I need them!?) stressing the education I’ve given myself over the last decade or so.

I am, quite obviously, in a mood. Not even a bad mood, just a…discomfited sort of mood. My balance is off, equilibrium upset, my gooey nougat center slightly exposed.

I feel…

Yeah, I think that about covers it. I suppose I could delete the entirety of the preceding and leave that rather vague half-statement and it would still say everything that I need it to.

Gods (goddesses?) but I am a strange one.

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  1. Just feel…

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