8:51 p.m. - February 09, 2003
Bless me, for I'm soon to sneeze
I�m going somewhere � undecided � not this coming weekend but the weekend after and I�m thinking the Northern California coast, not the redwoods but the coastline, Mendocino, further up. I�m looking tonight to rent a beachfront cottage and I think it�s extravagant, a waste, to rent a place in which to think when I can do the same � and do � right here. But it�s typical, I go on a (brief) road trip when I�m confused and angry and slightly afraid (afraid of what, just tell me, just tell me), and only the weekend because of course I�m responsible and there is work to be done, I couldn�t drive off into the sunset and leave my cares behind permanently, but I can do so both intermittently and with abridged expressions of fleeing the cage, get a taste, not indulge. It�s the act of driving that carries the most appeal, not the destination, as if being behind the wheel is like riding the crest before the event horizon, before something happens, before there�s time to reflect and think I don�t have time to be doing this.
I�m tired of feeling in a constant state of slipping (slippage?) when everything is indeed right-set and it�s me who�s walking funny. Tonight there was a moment when my sister, the Great Idiot, and myself went to the grocery store (sister cooked dinner) and the Great Idiot made straight for the cereal isle and I put my arm out to stop him and said No, always begin at the left and he looked at me and said No matter what your sister says, you�re crazy. Don�t children and idiots see past the obscure and call things for what they are? I don�t know what�s going on, I�m feeling disenfranchised from myself. Sister held up bottles of salad dressing Which do you like best? as if I were a child or a simpleton or both and I thought Have I been medicated and don�t know it, or am I always like this? But recall, my self-medicating takes the form of school and projects and books and that�s dandy as ever; my paper due tomorrow is perfect and I am satisfied and I will aptly demonstrate that I can hold my own in literature as well as linguistics and cognitive science and I will not yawn while doing so. A vague remembrance of conceit and confidence, there, but it belies the worry that I will be outdone by my peers and someone � two, three, four � will think Why the hell is this dufus amongst us? and the query will be justly pondered. I don�t want to shine, I want to illuminate, but often I feel I expend everything like the supernovae, a poof! of brilliance and fading glory afterwards.
Damn. I need outside validation too much.
I worry I�ll never achieve contentment and the worry tires me more than the pressing on without a map and zero clue of where to place my feet.
Erratic sleep again.
