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31 days: August 12, "Man or astroman"
Aug. 12th, 2005 09:15 pmDeWolfe Apts., on the Feast of St. Euplius
I've been feeling rather melancholy all week, unable to really focus and invest myself in anything. As proof of my listlessness and utter lack of motivation to work, I spent an hour after lunch finishing up Going Postal (what an excellent book, though!) and felt annoyed at myself for wasting so much time when I had so much to do. But after everyone had gone home and I was still trudging away inefficiently with the little menial tasks that simply weren't getting done, something in me snapped, and I could finally concentrate again. It was such a very lucid moment, as if something in my mind had finally settled back into place, and I could move forward instead of staying stuck in that morose mood. Such a relief too, I felt that I could almost see more clearly afterward.
Walked home in the dark and realized that I had grown to like the feeling of being alone on an empty street beneath the streetlamps. As if, yes, this is the way the world is supposed to be: me walking home at night, aware of where I am and what I'm doing. It occurred to me that I was experiencing change: one must undergo deconstruction and immobilization before one finally reassembles into shape again. A mental reprogramming, as it were. Or at least that's the sort of ridiculous metaphors I come up with when going on too little sleep.
Enough of my blather, let's get to the real substance of the post. Something about today's theme invites philosophizing, I think. This fic is unabashedly obscure and probably makes no sense. I was thinking about Camus and Eliot and various poems from desert hermits quoted in Nouwen, and it all came out in a weird jumble. Second person jumble to boot. >_> Please note that my pretensions aside, I really know next to nothing about philosophy.
( Trigun, 31 days, O Sisyphus )
(In principle, I probably ought to have dedicated any Trigun fic to Angelette, who loves the series more than I do, but I don't think she likes this kind of writing. Also, I intended to dedicate a drabble to Daera for a series she actually knows, but hopefully she won't mind reading this fic even if she has no idea what Trigun is about. ^_^)
Yours &c.
I've been feeling rather melancholy all week, unable to really focus and invest myself in anything. As proof of my listlessness and utter lack of motivation to work, I spent an hour after lunch finishing up Going Postal (what an excellent book, though!) and felt annoyed at myself for wasting so much time when I had so much to do. But after everyone had gone home and I was still trudging away inefficiently with the little menial tasks that simply weren't getting done, something in me snapped, and I could finally concentrate again. It was such a very lucid moment, as if something in my mind had finally settled back into place, and I could move forward instead of staying stuck in that morose mood. Such a relief too, I felt that I could almost see more clearly afterward.
Walked home in the dark and realized that I had grown to like the feeling of being alone on an empty street beneath the streetlamps. As if, yes, this is the way the world is supposed to be: me walking home at night, aware of where I am and what I'm doing. It occurred to me that I was experiencing change: one must undergo deconstruction and immobilization before one finally reassembles into shape again. A mental reprogramming, as it were. Or at least that's the sort of ridiculous metaphors I come up with when going on too little sleep.
Enough of my blather, let's get to the real substance of the post. Something about today's theme invites philosophizing, I think. This fic is unabashedly obscure and probably makes no sense. I was thinking about Camus and Eliot and various poems from desert hermits quoted in Nouwen, and it all came out in a weird jumble. Second person jumble to boot. >_> Please note that my pretensions aside, I really know next to nothing about philosophy.
( Trigun, 31 days, O Sisyphus )
(In principle, I probably ought to have dedicated any Trigun fic to Angelette, who loves the series more than I do, but I don't think she likes this kind of writing. Also, I intended to dedicate a drabble to Daera for a series she actually knows, but hopefully she won't mind reading this fic even if she has no idea what Trigun is about. ^_^)
Yours &c.
