I spend my time squaring away everything in my room so that I’m comfortable enough to write. The extra cables are gone, as well as the random receipts and bus transfers that somehow end up on the carpet. My mirrors are all in place, making the room seem twice as big, but I when I look I only see myself, slouched comfortably in my chair, hood over my head. Even Dolly has wondered in to lay herself flat on the empty floor. By the time I’m done cleaning, I’m at a loss for all the things I’ve been trying to get into well structured paragraphs.
A new episode of Trailer Park Boys is playing on Showcase, and I’m watching it with the sound off because too much information would ruin the fourth season, something I’m determined to see in order from the beginning. Ricky’s in a high school, completely out of place as a thirty-something man in shop class trying to make some hash or grow some weed or harvest some kind of narcotic, and this only adds to my amusement.
I’ve been letting my hair grow out, à la Matt Heafy in the video for Pull Harder On The Strings Of Your Martyr. Somehow, I’ve only now discovered that my hair naturally grows towards the front, and by brushing it forward, it still looks respectable when I haven’t had it cut in a month and a half.
I’ve been in an odd mood lately. Thoughts branch off in my mind, but nothing seems solid enough to follow through. Inspiration always comes the day after today.
One of the keys to blogging is to never give a shit about what anyone else thinks. Never write for an audience. Never censor oneself based on what other people may say. Never be embarrassed or ashamed to admit anything.
Otherwise, one isn’t being true to oneself. If there are those who are nosy, those whom we’d rather not have reading, that should never be an issue. I may have my fair share of creepy internet stalkers (one is already more than enough), but I refuse to let that stop me from saying what’s really on my mind.
It may be difficult to let go, but it’s worth it. The freedom is completely empowering. Blogs are a personal space, as public as they may be, and should be treated as such.
Expression is an act that should never be hindered by something as harmless as opinion.
Hence the absence from work. It feels like the long weekend burned me out, and I need another one. Thank god it’s already Wednesday.
Really, it’s probably just a mild stomach bug, causing my body to reject everything but very dry, thinly sliced toast that comes in packs of eight, named after the stage name of Australian opera singer Helen Porter Mitchell. I suspect that I’ll also be able to consume collagen processed from pork skin, cattle bones, and cattle hide, but I’m still waiting for it to set in the freezer.
I feel so helpless when I’m like this. I generally don’t worry about much, but health is the only thing that I can’t look at cerebrally. I’m not even comfortable writing this. It just keeps making me think of how bad I feel. Too nauseated to fall asleep. Too tired to do anything else.