domingo, 27 de fevereiro de 2011


Let's talk some sense into this little head of mine. 
I'm at a good job. It's a perfectly fine job, actually, for someone who has no idea what she's doing and doesn't want to work in her field. 
That's not the issue. The issue is around this and the free time...the time that is supposed to go towards investing in something...Ok, so I translated this week, got a few bucks more this month, I should be thrilled. I am, but I want more, more, more. 
So, Impatience, yes, I know.
I get swept away by these bouts of impatience slash agony that make me feel like a balloon...I start swelling up, literally. I feel my head swelling, my lungs swelling, the difficulty in breathing, in thinking, everything full of air. And then I have to quiet myself down, I have to sit in a corner and count to 10, I have to limit the world to that corner before the balloon goes POP!
There is nothing to be done when the swelling starts other than this little ritual and self-soothing. I have to wait until I can breathe again, deflate deflate!
I have to wait until the world seems livable again and I'm not a balloon person waiting to pop. That's the least one should hope for.
To look at your feet and not see the sky upside down - to see your feet. 

Ok, some sense is returning. Outside of this job, I just have to be patient and not lose sight of certain things...Like, the reason I went there asking for a job in the first place. Like what I want to do with all these languages in my head. Like my budget and monthly expenses. "Welcome to the real world she said, condenscendenly..." That just came to me, the John Mayer lines...
Stream of consciousness tonight, it seems. My eight grade teacher told me to do this kind of writing everyday for it would be good not only for the writer in me, but for my psyche. I kept that letter for a long time, she really believed in me and the writing ready to pour out of my every cell, and that letter was a cherished object of mine...too bad I don't know where it is anymore.

Today I have two lines, one for each side of me that pulls and tugs.
Two screaming bright beige ones, never red, never?

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