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

Stubbing Toes isn’t the Worst thing.

What makes finding peace and happiness so difficult? Shouldn’t it be as simple as doing what makes you happy? It should, but it isn’t. Doing what you fulfills you and expecting to survive is like walking through a minefield without a metal-detector. Sure, you might make it through. But if what you do, at any point, puts pressure on the wrong spot…offends the wrong person…well good luck.

Doesn’t mean it’s not worth the risk. Here’s to stepping on a few toes while we try and find our way.

😉

Blu

A Gentle Breeze (Poem)

I wrote this in Bio-statistics this morning as my soul started to immolate from acute boredom.

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The lonely neurotic bleeds regret,

Climbing higher,

Mind is set,

Unseen hands scratch his epithet,

Fates unwoven scream and threat,

His times not done but the winds do fret,

They guide him gently; end is met.

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Written: 9/8/17