Writing

I’ve always written. I’ve always kept a journal around me so I could document a moment in time. I’m not sure why but it always seemed important to do, as if on purpose. It was and maybe is always just a part of my job. Just something I did and in fact, always recommended to anyone I happen to be talking to as a way to understand what a person may be thinking about or how to understand those thoughts and what they may mean. I’m not so sure there is really any way to know except that of it fits on all fronts….. Or at least most and enables a finer focus on whatever the subject happens to be. There are so many possibilities available. It may just be a matter of how willing I may be at accepting how far out I’m willing to go to include what is possible. Who knows? So I write. I take notes as if by my paying attention I’ll be better prepared for the final test? I don’t know. Maybe the test is simply to survive the experience? If that’s the case there are an unlimited series of obstacles set up to test a persons ability to get from point A to point B.

I always just assumed  that later on in my life, as a senior if I lived that long, I would finally ‘write that book!’ It was as if it was just a given, I will write a book. I think it was assumed because I had somewhat of a different kind of life experience than most, most in my own family that is. Of course my family was relatively normal in their own lives so mine just seemed extraordinary to them. Living my life is like waiting in line at he movies and never knowing what is playing/ It never mattered as I was in line for whatever it was anyway. That is what living my life is about. I am prepared for anything and nothing. Whatever shows up next is what it will be about and it’s always been that way. I can sight examples after example and they would all be that way, from knowing absolutely what certain consequences might be tom putting myself in a place where it would change all that to the complete opposite and still going there anyway. ……..and so, I write.  A lot of it has to do with that somewhere in my psyche I have this weird almost obligation that I need to be writing all along the way as if it were my actual job and so at the end of it all I;ll have something to show for all the time I’ve been allowed to experience this so called life in the third dimensional strata called reality.  Very often as I sit here in front of the monitor I am in a state of anxiety as if ‘I’m coming….. ‘   In other words, as if someone were calling me to get started with something or I’m on some sort of time line and need to get it done by a certain time….As if sitting here was simply wasting time when I could and should be doing something meaningful.  I never know what that something is, either. I just know that there are these thoughts that are telling me that I’m wasting my time doing whatever it is I’m doing and should therefore be doing something else. I inserted the judgement part because in my experience of being so different from the rest, I define different as wrong somehow so I am judging myself as always being wrong about whatever it is. Then as now I have created the same scenario of wondering what it is I keep doing wrong and keep needing to be punished for. The punishment is varied but in this case it is always in a state of outdoing itself. The product is always negative and these particular  people producing theses consequences are beyond just being low lives as thy have no bottom to sink to. It just just foes on and on down the toilet of dark plumbing never hitting its absolute lowest point……It hasn’t been found as of this writing.  and so, I write.

 

 

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