So tired, can't sleep. Insomnia seems to be starting up again. Can't really say that I missed it.
I keep finding that I'm really not good at living a complicated life. I feel unbalanced, overwhelmed, out of my depth. I'm not particularly good at multi-tasking, and that extends into more abstract realms - like emotion and understanding other people. I like things to be clear, clean-cut, and fairly simple. I don't mind complexity, but I like to devote my entire self to disentangling it. I like to think that I'm post-processural, that I don't believe in understanding things by simply cataloguing experiences. As if the act of recording orders experiences in some innate way. But I do. At least, recording things in photos ( scraps of receipts or tickets, taped or glued to journal pages and labeled ) helps me slow down events which happen at a whip-snap pace, allow me to go back over them and think about them properly.
Too many things happening lately. Won't have any time at all to really think about them, not for a while. I think that's why I want to move out, in the end. A quiet, uncluttered zone (or at least full of clutter which is entirely inspired by me) where I can sit and work, sit and think, sit and read and feel completely alone. Because that space I'd be renting is mine in a way that this room can never be, and my right to control entry to it is pretty much tautological. I guess I need the idea - even the illusion - of that space to function at all properly. Well, at least a temporary solution to the problem at hand seems obvious.
Damn you, insomnia. I hate it when I get wordy.
I keep finding that I'm really not good at living a complicated life. I feel unbalanced, overwhelmed, out of my depth. I'm not particularly good at multi-tasking, and that extends into more abstract realms - like emotion and understanding other people. I like things to be clear, clean-cut, and fairly simple. I don't mind complexity, but I like to devote my entire self to disentangling it. I like to think that I'm post-processural, that I don't believe in understanding things by simply cataloguing experiences. As if the act of recording orders experiences in some innate way. But I do. At least, recording things in photos ( scraps of receipts or tickets, taped or glued to journal pages and labeled ) helps me slow down events which happen at a whip-snap pace, allow me to go back over them and think about them properly.
Too many things happening lately. Won't have any time at all to really think about them, not for a while. I think that's why I want to move out, in the end. A quiet, uncluttered zone (or at least full of clutter which is entirely inspired by me) where I can sit and work, sit and think, sit and read and feel completely alone. Because that space I'd be renting is mine in a way that this room can never be, and my right to control entry to it is pretty much tautological. I guess I need the idea - even the illusion - of that space to function at all properly. Well, at least a temporary solution to the problem at hand seems obvious.
Damn you, insomnia. I hate it when I get wordy.
But, yes, I agree with your general feelings of attempting to slow down the haste of life. Often, though, I find that I live my live as a preview to recording it - thinking of how each experience can be documented (photographically, verbally, etc.), and that changes the very nature of an experience itself.