// Reflecting has never been an easy thing. In this particular case, sitting and staring at an accumulation of my own pool of sweat may prove to be no exception. //
I understand that there are certain luxuries that may occur during a relationship. Of these certain things you already know of. I on the other hand, can appreciate the littlest of antics that can sometimes happen that usually don't get plotted on the radar of noticing things. Of these things I wish I had more of to help me along my day. As of late, I feel spread among the same papers that lay strewn across the floor of my study. I feel stretched along the same lines as the fibers of my compression shorts that pull and contract with every move that I make... I've seen better days, but only measured by the amount of laughter added up and a sense of exhilaration lost between the active decisions that I make and of the sub-conscience that lie dormant.
This style of free writing allows me to write down my most filtered inner-conscious notions that fill my head between breathes. It enables me to examine myself more inept and precise. Sometimes self reflection is the single most beneficial act that can protect your sanity.
I imagine myself, without cause on some days. Of course I realize that my latest progression in education can instill a sense of failure to most, I'd like to think that I can exclude myself from this bunch as to hold myself because of a higher calling and the blind faith of following fate. So I remain intact and shuttle forward, arms at the ready to get back up as I catch myself falling. I used to trust myself fully... These long days, I seem to doubt each thought and cell that fires within milliseconds of each other. Myosin, and actin. Do I fully give myself permission to go against what I feel is right or justified and get swept along with the other people that routinely shuffle past the morning rush and in hopes to get off work early enough to skip the afternoon rush hour? Am I destined to work a job that requires me to clock in everyday, to take a mandatory lunch that should not be held any less than the 35 minute mark? Who am I to follow these rules? I am who I am, who I was, who I will be. Unless an active decision takes places to chase after what I believe to be the right path...
But... then again. Who am I? To go against a system that forces our habits and decisions to be pressed along the curves of what we hope for and what we receive. This from a mild mannered man seems unfair, a little scary at first with the foot in the door feeling. We monopolize on specialization when that in nature as allowed for surplus to generate our very way of living. There is no sustainable means of living. Surplus has created shortages. We expect the wine to flow, to be on whenever we deem it important to gather. History is self evident in which cities are based of efficiency, division of labor, to create without any limitations when these limitations are unnatural. The industrial revolution, up until this point in time population, growth, grew steadily, sustainable. Boy, this has pressed upon the habits of creating workers and less philosophers, the thinkers, but I suppose that it has always been that way.
What are we to do? What am I to do? I, who had taken the time to indulge deeper into the subconsciousness of the man I see every morning when my eyes peer into a mirror, but maybe its everything around me that confuses me. I digress. For now I will peer back into the eyes of my mind for it has been long closed... visine will help. Dry... so dry... but all in all I am happy and grateful. Weird.
// puss in boots //
