Work

For me, if I don’t have an overarching goal, ambition, or thing that seems impossible to work towards; I go a little crazy. My mind is active and it’s like it creates internal problems that I have to solve but probably can’t because they’re ill-defined and not as pressing or relevant as they seem. Most would call this sort of experience anxiety, and I tend to agree. These go away when I have something huge to work on. My books, an ambitious art project, pouring my everything into my classes. I need to outrun myself.

I think the need to be improving, the need to not waste time is important. But it’s hurt every relationship I’ve tried to have or cultivate. Friends are easy to fit in but close friends and my ex’s all end up realizing I can’t relax. I can’t do leisure. I can’t make time for them when I’ve already scheduled out my day with thirty hours worth of hard work. And if I did there’s no guarantee they’ll like what they see. Anxious.

I’m overbooked, all the time…but I like that. It’s the only way I sleep. I need it, otherwise my mind goes back to torturing me and convincing me all these little problems and all the stuff from my past still matters when it doesn’t. It’s all or nothing with people, and it’s not right to make anyone my project, so they stay at arms length and I hope they don’t mind that I need to plow ahead with my passions. Regret never helped a soul and I’ve already learned from those mistakes. I don’t have a time machine, so I need to keep my eye on ‘what’s next’. Perpetually.

Okay, breaks over. Back to studying!

 

Peace,

Blu

Raptor Virus

“You haven’t been sick till you’ve had raptor virus.” he told me, grinning all self satisfied like he did when he was proud of something.

I let that hang, not wanting to seem too interested. But raptor virus? What the fuck could that be? Giving in, I met his eye and asked, “Okay, what’s raptor virus?”

“Oh” he said, “Pretty much the worst thing ever.”

I sighed and warned, “If you tell me you get it by traveling back to the Jurassic era, I’ll punch you.”

He shook his head a little and said, “Don’t worry, you’d never catch raptor virus during the Jurassic era.”

“So what is it?” I asked again.

“A virus you catch from travelling back to the Cretaceous period and trying to ride a raptor, duh.” He flinched away as I swatted at his shoulder before half shouting, “Hey! What’s that for?!”

I paused and met his eye, thinking a moment in order to communicate my thoughts as unambiguously as possible. A few moments passed before I answered, “If I had more options, we wouldn’t be together.”

He chuckled and muttered, “And that’s why you don’t have more options.”