Cumbersome though they often are, thoughts must be made of air. I realized this as my head floated just above my pillow and my eyelids fluttered just out of the reach of sleep–for the millionth night this year alone. That book review I would write if I did blog, yesterday’s unfinished errand list, and the drawing of a ninja mouse trampling a princess (stealthily slipped on my desk by my most aloof–and brilliant–student) whipped about my head and eventually stirred up dusty, sedentary, more permanent memories of old goals and new ones that I cyclically lose in the disorienting daytime.
This past Sunday, an old friend appeared out of my past like a ghost come to remind me of a great failure and doomed future should I be unsuccessful at rerouting myself. And because I never could withstand his presence, a cyclone formed in my thoughts and the wind was so loud that I could scarcely hear his news of recent success and honest commentary on old regrets we had created together. When he left and the windstorm had calmed, I remained paralyzed.
Alone with the fresh grief over the old mess this friend and I had made, I grew unhappy with who I had allowed myself to become. I had–not always consciously–dwelled on our failure and others, and the thoughts had hissed their way out of my head to blow about and erode the contentment in my life. I had always meant to write, and create a home on the interweb, and change careers, and go back to school, and run a marathon…and do everything I ever thought I should/could/had no reason or limitation not to do. But I hadn’t–and I disliked that.
With this blog I commit to doing whatever I think to. Here I plan to reflect and make sense of my experiences with trials, triumphs, banal everyday occurrences, books, movies, people, love…and growth. With this post I determine to unlaboriously exhale and inhale the pollutions and purifications in my own air. So join in, stop a bit and take a load off. Blow smoke with me.