Sunday, October 03, 2004

The Mind is Absent

My mind is quiet today. I feel like I'm watching a really fabulous movie without sound. Everything's a bit disconnected.

I'm exhausted as well. I could sleep for 16 hours and wake up hoping the day will be short so I can sleep again. Maybe that mono is rearing its ugly head again. Or maybe the crash is coming.

I feel like I'm in that part of a horror movie when the protagonist is walking down a long, poorly lit corridor and the audience sees a dark figure move silently in the shadows. The evil sadistic murderer is just about to stab our heroine with a jagged hunting knife when she turns around, sees him and *poof*, *sputter*.

Sorry folks. This tape ends there. We don't know what happens to her, or who the demon is or what she's doing in that hallway.

My life in a nutshell right now. My brain starts on an interesting train of thought that can only end in some mundane, yet worthy discovery but every freakin conductor decides to stop the engine before we get there.

I feel like I'm on a choppy sea in a small boat. I'm getting bounced around without any coherent idea of where I'm going and why. And ha! Maybe I'm taking on water that looks an awful lot like my thesis and I have a bucket that looks an awful lot like pages of text and I can only keep this dingy afloat by getting rid of some of that freakin water.

I don't know if you've ever read Ernest Hemmingway's "The Old Man and the Sea." It's short and horrible. But I swear I feel like that old man right now, trying to make it against the odds. Hopefully, my journey won't end with broken dreams and an enormous carcass.