Two or three years ago I made myself the promise that I was going to stop stopping. No more stagnation. Growth, growth, growth! Think tumour, think– uh, wait a second. Scratch that one. Think… something.
When I was a kid, about 15, I’d gotten a bit more sophisticated than the “George-Michael-over-every-single-fucking-wall!” method of interior design, and now only had George in a few select spots, as I had begun to fill the rest with Johnny Depp and witticisms I’d cut out of my teen magazines. No, I’m not being ironic. I just had to look really hard.
Like, “One day I’m this way, and the next I’m completely not.”
Said by some forgettable starlet, I’m not really sure why that line always appealed to me. Perhaps because I’m so grounded and so oriented as to who and what I am that I could never be flighty enough to be completely different from day to day.
Not wanting to ever be the same, that’s different. Life’s about moving forward. It’s about getting hit but always keeping moving forward. Rocky Balboa said that.
I always thought, though, that if I was a lesbian, I might like those flighty girls. I keep getting drawn to them. Kind of like how I’ve had more than one close friend who was bipolar, and a million who were ADHD. Probably because I like my people interesting as opposed to boring/ordinary/quiet.
Anyhow. It’s been a long day and I didn’t really mean to drop in and write, but the notion hit about phases, I thought I’d share and explore and get me a bloggin’ twofer for your vicarious pleasures. Am I shifting into yet another mode? I don’t know. Something about tonight feels like that.
I hope so. Not that I’m not content. Content-ish? Well, actually, I’ve been a little bored — but that’s because I’m trying to force myself to write. My thinking is, maybe it’s the existential/literary equivalent of stopping trying to make yourself sleep during insomnia. You can’t sleep, so telling yourself to sleep is a pretty moronic thing to do. Instead, get up and watch that 3am showing of Stripes.
Maybe where I want to take my writing needs a good disruption. Maybe I need to make more effort at balancing my monastic-type life with my alter-ego I’ve kept under wraps too long.
I don’t know. Maybe something completely other than that is about to happen. I don’t know. But that’s half the fun.
Something about tonight feels like the equivalent of sniffing the wind and smelling the weather that’s about to blow in. Something’s about to shift. It feels like it’s for the better. I don’t know. Here’s hoping. :)