2015.05.13 Free Write

From RooKwiki
Jump to navigation Jump to search

As usual, let's start with excuses:
Despite having a large stock of ideas to write about, I never feel that they're quite ready to summon for presentation here. Likewise, there's a plentitude of circumstantial observations about family and career I could be making, but they don't materialize either. Indeed, I mostly just think, "wellll, I guess I could see how long my muse would have it's wicked way with me and manage to vent some of this congealed creativity. OR, I could make a tiny dent in my massively accumulated sleep-debt."

Or maybe the truth is just that I'm sufficiently busy being boring that I don't really have the energy I used to have to pretend to not be boring. He typed boringly.

Random observation: there's an awful lot of fast-movers thundering overhead in the dark. Sounds like flights of four of the F15/F18's stationed at PDX. Training maneuvers at night, or maybe there's something up?

Maybe it's aliens. I hope it's not aliens. I mean, usually I hope it's aliens, but that is when I'm all ready for a global apocalypse and the thrilling adventure of staging a guerrilla war of monkeys versus aliens. But then I had kids and got all entrenched with the easy life as middle-class first-worlders. Also, I read Defenders by Will McIntosh, and it scared the shit out of me.

Then, abruptly, I run out of things I think I want to type. But I need to keep typing to make this so-called "free write" actually that. It's the point. To push past all the over-thought prose and delve into something more primal. Something that lets me vent despite being constricted with the knowledge that I don't have anything that I think is worth saying.

Today I realized just how defended I am pretty much all the time I'm being observed. I'm not very good at being my genuine self, even as I do a great job of being honest and insightful. The defensive reflexes are so well engrained that they've felt like a fundamental part of myself my entire adult life. Except that they're not my true self, and I need to keep that in mind. They serve to protect my true self from some unnecessary suffering. Saving it for only the more-necessary suffering, I suppose.

My most-genuine self is awfully quiet, and really likes looking at things. Loves figuring things out, and making things. And loves moving, especially moving fast.

I am a giant, pulsating lobe of spatial awareness wedded to an analytical problem-finding/solving machine - all carried around on the shoulders of a simple little happy monkey mind.

That sounds like something to draw.

Aaaand, now the sense of wanting to sleep clearly exceeds my wanting to express myself in this embarrassing way.

END TRANSMISSION