Wednesday, June 13, 2012

a match

I've had a headache all day, growing progressively worse as time passes. It has plateaued, perhaps even begun to decrease, in the last hour; whether from the litres of water and tea I've consumed, the six ibuprofen, the two spoonfuls of peanut butter, or simply just giving in to the literal pressure and simply relaxing for a bit. Yet the work biting at my heels will not abate, and the stress only increases the longer it's postponed. I'll resume work shortly.

In addition to the headache, my left eye has been twitching worse than usual. It's a bothersome, uncontrollable and relentless issue, no doubt from stress. That, combined with the frequent outbreaks of hives, are more physical irritations than I could ever wish to endure, especially considering the seven-or-more months they've been occurring. Is there anything to be done? Decrease stress?

Yeah, right...

And, really, nothing is as pervasive as my struggle with the acceptance of uncertainty. How strongly I desire to know! Yet certainty is, perhaps, the most unnatural and foreign concept of humanity; a misleading and dangerous illusion at its very best, and cataclysmic as a rule.

So I cling desperately to the only reliable certainty, Love, as a lit match in unyielding, claustrophobic darkness.

What, or whom, do I love? And for what (or whom) would I sacrifice everything? Those are heavy questions. I think I know the answer. I know what the answer ought to be, and to some degree I hold to it. To some degree, it's more of an assumption that the "correct" answer is already in practice. But beyond that, the answer that rises immediately in response, the one supported by my mind and my heart and my too-emotional self... Risk is always terrifying.

Which leads to the question, of what are you most afraid? And for that, too, I have an answer. Isn't it fundamental to humanity, to fear rejection (in whatever the context)?

I've been drinking so much water (and today, tea), which results in frequent trips to the bathroom. It's a minor nuisance, but mostly it's satisfying and brings an odd sense of pride.

And if honesty comes in conclusion, I am hurting tonight. The absence of peace is pain.

Tuesday, June 12, 2012

I used to write more.

Several weeks ago, I was digging through some old journals and folders and the like; stuff I'd managed to collect into one box over the last several years, then just move around place to place. Some of it was notes from my favorite classes in high school: German, speech, calculus, etc. (I overcame my pack-rat self, and in. A sort of cathartic moment, threw those away. But what I had substantially more numerous were journals and stacks of written pages, and scraps with scribbles and musings...

I used to write so much. Pages upon pages filled to express myself; prose with odd little drawings in the middle, clusters of potential song lyrics with arrows drawn around, words crossed out and changed, chords and rhythms scattered around. I had forgotten all about that stuff. It was really astonishing to realize just how much there was. And these days I never write. In fact, I'm not sure there's anything I do to express or give outlet to the thoughts and emotions that fill me, that long ago filled me and have since been screaming in crowded frustration to be set free. Sometimes a thought will escape through twitter. And sometimes I'd get to sit down with one or two of my best friends to discuss certain aspects of certain things. But nothing as substantial as just sitting down with a pencil and paper, and writing until my brain is emptied. Blogging is not even the same relief. There's still certain things I censor or entirely abstain from writing. Though my audience is small, there's still certain things I don't want to risk igniting or pushing or causing unintended offense.

I used to still get some emotional release just in playing music with others. But I haven't once had the opportunity since moving. (and I'm terrified I never will get those opportunities again, short of the occasional YouTube cover happenstance for kicks with Brian.) so I no longer have that release through music.

And I can't remember the last time I've taken photographs just for the sake of having a relaxing and fun time out. I spend so much time with a camera attached to me for the sake of work, and even though I love my job, I leave the camera with work to get a break from it. I don't view it as an expression anymore, just a tool for work.