Writing something every day is having an effect on my thinking, which is affecting my attitude. It’s sick! I’m starting to see poetry in everything, and several times every day while I’m at work I want to stop everything I’m doing to write something down that I saw or thought of. I can’t do this and sadly I only arrive home with fragments. Everything is a metaphor for everything and its r a d i c a l. Today I had to drive through a gated community and my mind did a tailspin. I thought about the false sense of security that a gate gives the inhabitants of the neighborhood, and how the price of a home skyrockets if it is located in one of these places, and how people are willing to pay so much extra for this. It’s a little ass backward that one would pay money to seclude themselves, but I’d probably do the same. We build walls because life is easier this way, but that doesn’t make it right. It all seems silly now that I’m writing it down, but I think it’s a step in the right direction. I also get to drive in rural areas a lot, so most of my day is spent on winding roads among the trees and flowers and other things. Often I stop to smell the flowers (though I must admit most of the time they smell like nothing, or I get a tiny “floral” smell.) I imagine people who are really in to flowers can recall distinct smells from different buds, but they’re all the same to me. Just like beer and wine, I haven’t developed a taste for it yet. Maybe I never will, but the idiom “stop to smell the flowers” is enough for me. I get really excited every time a customer want’s to have a conversation, which feels unusual and unfamiliar as I don’t normally care for small talk with strangers. I am a creature of habit, and I habitually have stayed inside in the past. This job gets me outside all day and I’m thankful for it. The sun feels amazing even after lugging a 50lb playground set in a flat box from the back of my van to someone’s garage door and sweating profusely. I wish these chicken legs would get some color though, I still worry the light will reflect perfectly and I’ll accidentally blind someone. My good friend told me he liked an album I shared with him, and that made me feel very nice. You shared this album with me, and I gotta say, it’s SUPA HOT FIRE.
I’m supposed to quit vaping soon. I told myself when I run out of supplies, that’s it. Quitting weed was a piece of cake. It definitely isn’t addictive in that there are no physical withdrawals, but the mental is a whole different ballgame. I did it out of habit, and since I quit I haven’t been able to sleep well. Nicotine is going to be much harder to kick. I’ve quit a few times in the past, each time for a few months, but the second something really stresses me out, I buy cigarettes. I’m weak but what’s wrong with that? My long term physical health is what’s wrong with that.
I cried for a very stupid reason today. It was a happy cry: I found myself daydreaming near the end of my shift, and in this daydream I was with you and we had a kid. I definitely don’t want kids for ethical reasons, but we’re both good with them. I remember one time you came over and my cousin’s kid Brianna came in to my room. She sat on your lap and you were very interested in what she had to say. In that moment I was more attracted to you than ever. I shifted this daydream to one that involved us being co-teachers to the young, as this seemed more realistic and daydreaming about unrealistic hypotheticals is a straight-shot to disappointment.
If you became a teacher, what would you teach? I think you’d teach environmentalism and preach nonviolence, with a little guitar on the side for the spice.