There are times when a purge button for the mind would come in real handy. Or so it seems. Unfortunately, it turns out, this is the next best thing I've got. So bear with me. Alternatively, ignore what follows.
A drop of ink in water. Patterns form, for an instant. And then the colour is sucked by the colourlessness that surrounds it. Which reminds me, I have, somewhat recently, come in possession of an ink pen! It was a gift too, one without an occasion. I used to have a couple of bottles of ink at my desk back in school. Of course, when the parents moved, the desk moved... and now serves as this PC desk. Uh huh. One moment.
Right, they're still here. Buried in one of these rather cavernous drawers full of too many things. At times like these I am forced to face the fact that I am a hoarder. Dunno what level. (Apparently there are levels.) Which, incidentally is rather at odds with my usual travel baggage. Anyway, I'm a little afraid to actually open either of the bottles after all this time. Maybe there's nothing left. Either way, what's the point? The hazards of a proper ink pen, while not fresh, haven't all been blotted away from memory just yet.
I hate waiting in general. Well, perhaps hate is too strong a word. Anyhoo, ordinarily I'd deal with it by scheduling. Yes, I'm weird like that. Trouble is, to do that the time-frame needs to be not indeterminate! Point is, now this is beginning to really bug me.
Feeling: well, bugged!
Listening to: Adele - Chasing pavements
A drop of ink in water. Patterns form, for an instant. And then the colour is sucked by the colourlessness that surrounds it. Which reminds me, I have, somewhat recently, come in possession of an ink pen! It was a gift too, one without an occasion. I used to have a couple of bottles of ink at my desk back in school. Of course, when the parents moved, the desk moved... and now serves as this PC desk. Uh huh. One moment.
Right, they're still here. Buried in one of these rather cavernous drawers full of too many things. At times like these I am forced to face the fact that I am a hoarder. Dunno what level. (Apparently there are levels.) Which, incidentally is rather at odds with my usual travel baggage. Anyway, I'm a little afraid to actually open either of the bottles after all this time. Maybe there's nothing left. Either way, what's the point? The hazards of a proper ink pen, while not fresh, haven't all been blotted away from memory just yet.
I hate waiting in general. Well, perhaps hate is too strong a word. Anyhoo, ordinarily I'd deal with it by scheduling. Yes, I'm weird like that. Trouble is, to do that the time-frame needs to be not indeterminate! Point is, now this is beginning to really bug me.
Feeling: well, bugged!
Listening to: Adele - Chasing pavements
An appropriate song to fit this "bugged" feeling. I enjoyed reading this post.
ReplyDeleteI would LOVE to organize my mind the way I can organize my desk or computer.
ReplyDelete