driving in the wrong direction

Driving home after returning Second Son to college today, lost in thought, I suddenly realized that I was driving in the wrong direction, and had been for 10 miles.

The thing is, I don’t even really know what I was thinking about, and it’s a road I know really well, so I still can’t figure out how it happened.

And then I wonder if I’m trying to tell myself something.

Might be time to turn things around.

I’ll keep you posted.


Def: The realization that each random passerby is living a life as vivid and complex as your own.

Gives birth to empathy.

Def:┬áthe feeling that you understand and share another person’s experiences and emotions.

If we can do empathy, we can do anything.

I just want to feel everything, except when I don’t

Sarah over at Redamancy Lit recently posted a link to this song by Fiona Apple*, which I just happened to have been listening to on and off a ridiculous number of times over the past couple of weeks trying to decipher the words.

Every single night
I endure the flight
Of little wings of white-flamed
Butterflies in my brain
These ideas of mine
Percolate the mind
Trickle down the spine
Swarm the belly, swelling to a blaze
That’s when the pain comes in
Like a second skeleton
Trying to fit beneath the skin
I can’t fit the feelings in
Every single night’s alight with my brain

What’d I say to her
Why’d I say it to her
What does she think of me
That I’m not what I ought to be
That I’m what I try not to be
It’s got to be somebody else’s fault
I can’t get caught
If what I am is what I am, cause I does what I does
Then brother, step back, cause my breast’s gonna bust open
The rib is the shell and the heart is the yolk and
I just made a meal for us both to choke on

Every single night’s a fight with my brain

I just want to feel everything

So I’m gonna try to be still now
Gonna renounce the mill a little while and
If we had a double-king-sized bed
We could move in, and I’d soon forget
That what I am is what I am cause I does what I does
And maybe I’d relax, let my breast just bust open
My heart’s made of parts of all that surround me
And that’s why the devil just can’t get around me
Every single night’s alright, every single night’s a fight
And every single fight’s alright with my brain

I just want to feel everything
I just want to feel everything
I just want to feel everything
I just want to feel everything

My heart’s made of parts of all that surround me.

The thing is, sometimes I’d just rather draw a hot bath and fill it with mineral salts and sandalwood and pitchouli and stay there until I’m a raisin; or maybe even just hide under my bed and not feel anything.

Too many questions —

Am I doing this right?

Do I have a right to ask for this?

Do I change this or accept it?

Why is it so hard to have, and keep, everything I want?

Do I even want everything I want?

Every single night’s a fight.

Every single fight’s alright with my brain.

*She’s way too thin. Her gorgeous face and haunting eyes look just gaunt and haunted now. Can we help her somehow? She’s just so incredibly talented.

is wordle a verb?

I “wordled” this blog.

This is what I got.

Not exactly what I expected, but kind of cool anyway.

Also not contributing in any way to any sense of inner peace or enlightenment. I’m just walkin’ around like almost everybody else, more questions than answers.


I like that understand, and learn, and something, and better, seemed prominent.

Not sure where murderous came from. That doesn’t sound enlightened at all.



still trying

Construction projects and too much work to do/too little time to do it is getting me down.

But, even on a cloudy day, I’m trying to keep my eyes fixed on the sun.

[Posted this shortly after my dad died; was reminded of it last night when Second Son brought up something about Cage the Elephant and I may have even earned a few coolness points* by not only knowing about the group, but could reference a song/video I liked.]










*I’m not sure about this; you’d have to ask him.