What I think about, I never write about. Every day I dictate to myself and never write it down. Everything is too wispy. It's like trying to catch a breeze in a bottle. You have the tools, the bottle or the words but the very action of trying to catch the breeze kills it, it cuts it from the mother thread. Everything disappears when I try to write.
I'll need to refine a better bottle, but I don't think I can catch all the wind. Words only stop the fluidity.
The problem could very well be my own secrecy. I keep everything inside my head. I have hardly any pictures or photos of anything, I remember all friends, vacations, experiences and rarely do I have any evidence of them. My own or favorite websites are never saved-- Blogger, my blog, Botany Photo of the Day, my e-mail, and others. The things closest to me I keep within, only accesible through me. I weave no poetry, no art, no music. Not tangibly. I make plenty of it in my head, but trying to outline it's shape brings the vision too far into the physical. It's impossible to make a shape shapeless.
I want to blog more, and write down what I'm thinking. But you know it's so hard to take the energy to slow the mind down, sit down, organize thoughts into words stringing sentences trying to describe elusive and fluid ideas.
Even so, I'm all too aware of my tunnel-vision. I've been walking on this campus for 9 months, and I'm surprised to notice that I haven't seen the tops of the trees in all of those times. I never noticed how tall the trees were.
I lived in Marysvilled for nearly 18 years and I can't remember what buildings used to be beside the off-ramp, newly bulldozed.
Only recently did I try to look around. I was in the forest lately and I noticed that I only look at the ground, ever. I need to look up, looking through the light and the color that stings my eyes. I try more to take in my surroundings. The feel of the grass, the splayed branches of the trees, the nests of birds, the fences of my neighbors.
and this is why all my posts are with I. I can't see any narration besides mine. Ha, how I wish I had the perspective of others, how I could capture the character of other people and write with only sparse use of "I."
but I do notice that everything is my want, my feelings, my wants for other people to do things that I want.
I am very I centered. How should I write for other people, determine their character, when I haven't found mine?
Talk to people, write about ideas. I have so many wisps of thought which will never be recorded.
I I I, me me me. What is intospection?
Develop those ideas. Wake up, sleepy. Some hours in the day are still haze-free.
