Thursday 27 March 2014

Badly expressed thoughts

I haven't written anything down in a while so let us see if I can't string a few lucid sentences together. Stephen Fry said once that a thought badly expressed is a lie so going by that standard I would not take any of this too seriously.

How can I express an uncertain emotion or vague yearning? With words for sure but I'm out of practise. I seem to have forgotten how to make the dance. I feel like there are a lot of things I am unable to make dance these days.

Lately I have been stirred by restlessness and unsettled by the trajectory of life. Waking up from dreams truly disappointed to find that the brief moment of perfect excitement never really existed in the first place. Waking up from dreams to drag my feet through the muddy water of the set routine. It's not all bad, it just isn't living the dream.

This life I lead now, the transitory phase between old and new, was meant to be an exciting time in itself. That was my expectation anyway. By now I was expecting a thousand fold increase in intelligence and roadmap all laid out. Things rarely work out how you expect, especially when expectations are so often unrealistic.

Tell me Mr Cooney, what exactly were you expecting?

I expect to be high all the time.

Feeling like I'm the passenger of a train with the sensation that the station is moving rather than the train.I haven't even begun to make my mark on the world yet and I am floundering. This life I lead, Work-drink-study-work-t.v.-dream-run-standstill, seems good to many people, perfect to a few more. It just seems a little unambitious to me. I am not judging though.How could I when I comply like all the rest.

I understand that there is comfort in the monotony. From an evolutionary or even anthropological point of view I would imagine it all began as a way of prolonging survival. Every animal wants to survive and the most effective way to do this must be to make it a matter of routine. For many people this is the only way to live. Everyday predictable and boring but safe. Flip it over and it's soul-destroying, imagination restricting and a graveyard.

Here we stand together, a few of is in the wrong time and place. Frustrated and jealous and grasping for something that just isn't there. Pining for something different without understanding what it is. Sometimes wondering if it isn't a what but a who. Whatever it is I need to satiate my yearning heart it isn't in anything I see everyday.

So once again I sit here staring at a computer screen unsure of my conclusion or what even lit the fuse for me to start writing at all. Perhaps it's just a part of my personality. An hereditary gift that leaves me in an almost constant state of longing. But then I think believing that would be nothing but a cop out.

My genes are sealed but I still have time before my fate is.













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