a great force

I spend my days lazing about, doing nothing of consequence or value. I read. I watch movies. I eat. I water my one house plant.
Where is my passion for living? I feel itchy, waiting for something to happen that wakes me up. I am a victim of inertia... whatever is at rest will stay at rest until a force great enough makes it move.
I need a great force.
It is easier to work hard and try hard and make something happen when you are in dire need. When you are homeless and without food, suddenly a spark is lit and your survival instincts are ignited. But when you are comfortable, and taken care of, and at rest it is much easier to lay still, to do nothing of consequence or value. It takes greater will to make something of oneself, to dig deep and find the passion within.
I need great will.
Where does one go about finding a thing like that? Will. Passion. Drive. I inherited my inclination for laziness, and I wonder if will is also an inherited trait.
One thing is certain: I have to pull myself up and into the world again. No one else can do it for me. I have to find the courage to not settle for less than what I want out of my life.

10/16/10

This morning is full of magic.

I wake up in my bed, a fluffy cloud thing, and roll under the sheets to stretch my sleeping limbs. I slide my hand out into the cold void between the covers and the nightstand, and find my phone.

Goodmorning, I send to Kurtis.

It takes me a few minutes more, after going pee and brushing my teeth, to realize that the light from behind the hanging blinds is unusually grey for eight thirty. The familiar sound of rain comes dripping into my awareness, and I pace into the living room where the windows are open and the smell and sound of the gentle storm is fully present.

It is a rainy Sunday, the best kind of day. I make tea, water my basil plant named Coo, and pull on the sweater that is more like a blanket. I sit and observe the silvery light that outlines everything in my apartment; the edge of the counter, the sides of the dining chairs, the tips of the fan blades hanging from the ceiling. The pillows on the couch look grey and soft, the metal pieces on the chest shine like nickels.

I love the sounds of the rain. Sometimes the drops hit the railing, and make a slight, musical ping. Other drops land with a fat plop on the leaves of the tree outside my window, and then sweetly dribble past all the other leaves to land on the thirsty soil. Birds chirp restlessly, frogs croak in their amphibious joy. I think I can even hear the sounds of laughter in the clouds, a contented chuckle as they pass over with the breeze.

halloween

I am looking foreward to this year's holiday. Of course I still don't know what to dress up as, but I am stil going to make something awesome. My problem is I just have too many ideas...

Jester? Spring? An old Gypsy?

I just don't know...



I am currently sitting in a black airport seat, waiting for my flight to tkae ma back 'home' to San Diego. Ugh. I am not looking foreward to being there again, and having to pack everything up to move it to my new 'home' in Petaluma. I am thinking of how nice it will be to have a vacation from Grass Valley, how it is going to be an interesting experiment to see how well I can handle being away from Kurtis again. WE spent everyday for two months together... it nearly made up for the three months apart. Almost :)

But I don't want to go back to San Diego. If I could have paid someone to pack all my shit for me, and ship it off, I would have done that. I guess there may be people that do that, but I wouldn't know about how to find them or if I could afford it in the first place. It might have been worth it.

Ugh. Anyway. I am bored and sitting in the airport and doing nothing else. Just writing to pass the time and take my mind off of the doom I may find at home. I don't even remember what was in the fridge. Eeeew.