Personal Records...

Not to be confused with personal bests, worsts, sins, triumphs, etc, ad nauseum. (I am learning not to be obsessive about spelling. You know what the word is. I don't have to spend time looking it up in the large, red dictionary that sits by my desk. I'm not even going to look at the previous sentances to see if there is a word I'm not quite sure of, or backspace to re-word a sentance that doesn't snap into place. Where's the paper bag. I'm hyperventalating.) Take the time between my last post here and this one. I'm not even going to look at the date and count it out on my fingers. --Damn! I've already gone back and re-read everything. -- Don't look back is going to be my motto from now on.

Think about it. A Blog is like a diary. It's something one goes journaling in. That is a record, of ones thoughts, feeling, actions. It most often entails looking back. (Damn, I just back spaced and re-wrote that sentance.) ( I started to re-read again, but stopped myself. Self-control. Like coming back to the center when meditating. Gently finding the thought right where you left it and beginning to unravel the meaning.) What do you call it when you write about the future. Not about the past, or even the present, since by the time you've written it down what you're writting about is the past. (I just moused in, split that sentance in two and changed a negative into a positive reference. Follow that.) (Started to re-read but stopped after less than a sentance. Good girl.)

There is a point here. I'm trying to come straight to it. Trying not to stop for trifling, unimportant things like spelling, grammar, second guesses, what ifs, minor imperfections, lost thoughts, and the nagging suspicion that no one will understand what the hell I'm talking about. I've heard that one should live in the moment. And you know I do try. I sit there and I open my mind, shut my eyes and wait for the revelation that will change my life. But you know what. There isn't any great, mystical, secret. There is just breathing in and out and letting things happen without trying to control them, without trying to find some deep meaning in them. (My eyes have traveled back to the beginning of this paragraph three time, but I wouldn't let myself acknowledge the words there.) I will not re-write. I will not try to re-make my past into some palatable rant about dirty dishes, or other peoples wrong ideas--inferring thereby, that my ideas are the right ones (na-na-na'-na-na). It's an emotional roller-coaster ride. It's emotion. It's fact. But how can it be both. Emotion defies facts and facts deny emotion. (Don't think too hard.) Stream of consciousness. I remember doing experiments with SOC back in college. Sort of like automatic writing, but without the possession bit.

The point.... This is life. There is no backspacing, spellchecking, rewind, mute. There is only moving forward one step-at-a-time. I had almost fogotten about this little blog. My TANSTFL Farm. I used to tell myself that if I ever got a farm that is what I would name it. Well we bought the farm. It already had a name. Longwood. Now we're trying to sell it. Time to move on. It's a feeling I have to fight. That urge to move on when thing aren't going well. It's from my childhood. Fourteen difference schools in four different states. Don't look back. Don't get attached to anything. When the going gets tough pull up stakes and move on. Life is movement. There is something wrong with this way of thinking, but I'm not sure what yet. I'm working on it.

Boy that was a cheap therapy session.