ceirius

its been ages since i wrote anything. part of the reason was that i was burried deep in my thesis resaerch work. the other part was the preceeding history that raped me of my ability to tell a story (I have to find that story and put it up here). I have to admit I have never been a story teller really, especially bad when you expect me to tell a story. I like to tell my story in my way, of my thought, on my schedule. often times I think I say some rather profound things, but since I am the only person hearing it or that I never said it aloud means that no one else heard my profound psychological mess.
psychological mess - are any of us clear in thought that we know what we want, dunno. I especially feel warped because i see myself stretching out to reach this goal that is soo far, that i have to crawl up scraggles. Resting on the scraggy outcrop i look around and wonder 'why am i the only one doing this, i must be crazy' .
I am at on of those scraggly rest posts of my life now. I look dow to see the precipitous but easy fall, and upward as I already mentioned - the treachery of something. something that may well be called a goal or ambition, or perhaps misguided pursuit. at every point when I look around I see the others going about on their aparaently level posts, happily oblivious, and perhaps intrigued by my scary perch. The reality however is that my perch looks every bit as comfortable to them as theirs does to me.
I have things to write, but not now, will do when the time is right
29sept05