Maybe it was the exhaustion making me hyperactive and all WOOOOOOOOOOO this morning. Maybe it was the weather on my side, trying to bury the city in 40cm of snow, telling me to forget everything else. On seeing myself in the mirror, I started to have one of those Strung Out, Matchbook moments while shaving. You know, the part that goes
I just comb my hair and wash my face
Keep straight ahead and keep my pace
Just think about nothing and my life’ll be alright
Well I got my friends, I got my pen
I got a million distractions to keep me warm
And all I know is that I’ll be alright, that I’ll be alright
And while it’s getting so busy that I can’t keep track of everything, it’s also nice to be distracted. I can keep these thoughts in the back of my head, and bring them out when I need them. Almost like I’m in total control of it all, while it continually verges on the peak of instability.
Maybe it’s the instability I thrive on, a way of feeling like my life isn’t stagnant. That way, I’m not in a rut, devoid of inspiration.
So yeah. I think it’s making me hyper.
Those who rule in accordance with Tao do not use force against the world
For that which is forced is likely to return
—Verse 30, Tao Te Ching
I may know better, I may understand what I’m supposed to accept, but that doesn’t make it any easier.
Sometimes the world is crashing down around you, and all you can do is watch.
Because you can’t yell at the sky to keep it from falling.
The winter storm watch continued at –14°C today. When you’re inside, the sun fools you with the warmth of its colour, until you step outside and feel the bite of the wind.
I spent an hour-and-a-half looking for various things and running errands downtown. The streets were packed, the stores were packed, and I found nothing.
So I spent a stupid amount of money on these awesome mittens at Club Monaco. I actually walked out of the store and out of the mall when I found them, for fear that I would purchase them, but alas, here they are on my hands. I had to decide between the white and black stripes, the grey and black stripes, and the flat grey ones, but since most of my clothing is neutral, I decided on the flashiest pair. The open hole for the fingers makes iPod and camera manipulation easy. They’re 100% cashmere; thin enough to wear indoors or inside your coat pocket.
So it wasn’t a total waste of a day.
This is one of the strangest times of my life. I remember feeling something similar to this over four years ago, but I haven’t had it since.
I’m fighting my old self again. Fighting against these feelings and past habits.
I wish I could define and explain it. Vincent Gallo has a song he titled “Glad To Be Unhappy”, filled his distinctly minimalistic piano and acoustic guitar sounds, so sparse you don’t know where the downbeat falls. But there are no lyrics, and I think I’m starting to understand why.
Everything is so simple when you’re set in your heart. But when you’re filled with such paradoxical, contradictory feelings, nothing makes any sense. The world is turned upside down.
I think a part of me wants to think about it. I want to keep this feeling, where every song sounds as good as the first time you heard it, and the leaden sky is urging you forward with every step you take. To be so inspired.
And while part of me knows that to fight against ones inner nature is foolish, another part of me knows how destructive it can be.
Julie drew this picture of me. The details betray her perspicacity.
Such as the way my shirt tails dangle insouciantly from the sweater. How the pant bottoms are slightly bunched up. And while I don’t wear a tie that often, the preppy top + skater bottoms style is accurate. Even the length of chain and the shape of my glasses. All the little details I think about when I dress myself. The only thing that isn’t me is the hair, which falls flat in the winter, due to the fact that it’s toque wearing season.
Also, I have no eyes, nose or mouth is this picture. Only my wide-arm glasses, which I’ve said before is a large part of my identity. Obviously, her exclusion of my facial features has put even more emphasis on this.
I wonder: why are my arms drawn behind my back? Posture says a lot about a person. Maybe this was done without any consideration, but maybe there was subconscious intent.
It’s always interesting to find out how other people see you. A self-image is often biased.
So which image is more accurate; yours or theirs?