Technically, it's not spring break at the moment. But I know it's coming soon because the girls keep mentioning it.
Do you find it odd that a person could only be vaguely aware of an impending weeklong holiday?
Not if it's this person.
It would be difficult to try and explain what it's like to live inside my head. I sometimes wonder what it would be like to live in another head--the head of a person who can keep track of time, who grasps volleyball statistics by the jugular, who nails carpool, who is talkative and gregarious, who understands the nuances of things like real estate, banking, and hedge funds (I've already stopped paying attention to myself as I write this), and who sleeps at night.
How would that be?
It forgets things like directions almost in real time, right when someone's telling them to me. But I can remember a child I saw outside a hospital emergency room in the middle of the night, years ago, clinging to her drug addicted mother, and the two of them haunt me to this day.
My eye roves. It roves over the things of this earth, aching at its beauty, hoping to discover a frog, a snake, or a beetle, or perhaps another glimpse of that magnificent blue bee.
As I've gotten older I've learned, by necessity, to toughen up a little. But not a lot. I think that's partly why I don't sleep well at night...thinking about things I see during the day which trouble me. I have the kind of mind that does not shut down easily, which wouldn't be so bad if I was formulating profound thoughts for what ails this world, but sadly that is not the case. It is simply a mind that churns over shadows and details, unable to let go.
When it builds up, I go for a run.
Izzy just came in, wanting a hug and to ask me a question about Darfur. She's studying genocides in her geography class these days.
She picked up a book I've been reading, one which she was browsing earlier this evening on the way home from music lessons, and said, "I like that part where the movie director goes: you know what I say to people when I hear they're writing anti-war books? I say, Why don't you write an anti-glacier book instead?"
And now I like Izzy even more than I did ten minutes ago, if that's possible.
As you can see, I'm not streamlining my thoughts very coherently for this post. Because I was really wanting to talk about writing and how I'm having trouble with my story these days. My mind isn't seeing things clearly at the moment...less so than usual. It isn't shivering with pleasure. I'm wondering if perhaps I should take a break from words...from the story, from this blog...just step away for a little while and see if that helps or makes things worse.
What's it like to live inside your head, dear reader? How do you see this world?
And if you have a brain like mine, how do you go to sleep at night?