Wednesday, October 13, 2004


So far, coming down off of this high has been like lying on the spine of a feather swishing gently up and down as it makes its way to the ground. The workings of my brain are starting to slow down. The hamster is coming off of its crack and is finally moving at a more normal pace. My thoughts are slowing a bit too.

I'd be lying if I said all was well because all is most definately not well. I've been beset by a fatigue so thick and unrelenting that I can scarcely get up to turn my alarm off and crawl back in bed. When I first settle in to sleep, I feel like my body is impossibly heavy, as if all of my blood has turned to steel.

The way I see the world is changing as well. Do you remember those red things that had the little circles with pictures around the edges and when you held the red thing to the light and looked through it, you could see the picture? Well, if my normal life is looking through those little red viewfinders with no intervening picture, that is to say, that I see everything as it actually is, lately my view has been obscured.

Focusing on small tasks is difficult. My concentration is gone. I can barely drive and listen to music at the same time. I can't watch TV and blog. I'll start reading a book for school and be overwhelmed with the need to do something else, like empty my dishwasher.

I'm frustrated with my current state of being. I hate being distracted. I hate losing my train of thought in the middle of a sentence. Trying to compose an argument in my mind is like trying to make out a broken cellphone signal when you get every third word and an occasional sentence here and there.

Not being able to think the way I always used to is devestating. I feel like my mind is turning into an amorphous sludge from its former cauliflowerish grandeur.

I hope my thinking returns someday. It's the thing I miss the most.