I have periods of time in my life, usually two or three years, where I go missing. Things are happening and I'm trying to make decisions that will get me closer to some goal or other and then over a period of a few months I find myself in a thick fog. Or a swamp. Or something unimaginative like that. Actually, there is a phrase from a story "The air was like halvah." If you've ever had halvah you know how unpleasant that sounds. While halvah is lovely to eat, breathing it must be like breathing sand. Or the discharge from a particle fire extinguisher, which I have breathed. If you ask I'll tell you about it sometime.
I feel like I can stay on track for about a year and a half at a time, and then everything starts stumbling toward entropy where I can't tell my ass from my hand and words don't mean what they used to and I drink too much and play too many video games.
The upshot of this is, I guess, I feel clear right now. I know what I want to do. The air is made of air. And I understand what you're saying even if I get a little lost in the middle, because I'm pregnant and I've got pregnancy brain.
So yes, the upshot is I'm really here. For now. And I'm afraid that I'm going to fade away again in two years, and that I'll wake up two or three years later going "So, what was it I was doing again? Oh yeah!"
I guess I should just be grateful that I wake up at all.
Posted by jlp716 at October 22, 2005 02:38 AM