i am slowly going crazy. 1-2-3-4-5-6-switch.
crazy going slowly am i. 6-5-4-3-2-1-switch.
every day seems to be stranger than the last. sure, on the surface it's mundane monday or no news tuesday, but just below, it's all a flutter. all of it. so much to think about, so much to drink about. so much to wonder, worry over, ponder, and dissect.
what a funny way to describe thinking - to dissect - to endlessly pull apart conversations and situations, bit by bit, piece by piece - as though they were insects and butterflies ready to be mounted behind glass. and does any of that meticulous mulling ever really make anything clearer? or is that obsessive untangling of the tangled actually counter-productive - i mean, once the tangles are completely smoothed over in your mind, you might lose sight of what drew you into the tangle to start with.
or something.
perhaps i am in musing mode (though really when am i not) because i just finished a book of essays from my all time favorite column - "modern love" in the new york times. every sunday, a different writer captures a snapshot or snippet of love in their lives - so this book was an anthology of a bunch of these - from essays about finding new love, breakups, and affairs, to adopting orphans and losing loved ones to cancer - the list of love topics was endless. sadly this book was not.
i could not put it down. and then felt that pang when i reached the last pages - knowing it was coming to an end.
it is so easy to get caught up in the lives of others - to glimpse into the everyday heartaches and heartbreaks of people. and then of course, you realize that your own life has plenty of these essays in it too - half-written, half-thought through stories, summing up your relationships, your regrets, your happy memories.
yes, yes - schmaltz city. but sometimes you have to be, don't you.
crazy going slowly am i. 6-5-4-3-2-1-switch.
every day seems to be stranger than the last. sure, on the surface it's mundane monday or no news tuesday, but just below, it's all a flutter. all of it. so much to think about, so much to drink about. so much to wonder, worry over, ponder, and dissect.
what a funny way to describe thinking - to dissect - to endlessly pull apart conversations and situations, bit by bit, piece by piece - as though they were insects and butterflies ready to be mounted behind glass. and does any of that meticulous mulling ever really make anything clearer? or is that obsessive untangling of the tangled actually counter-productive - i mean, once the tangles are completely smoothed over in your mind, you might lose sight of what drew you into the tangle to start with.
or something.
perhaps i am in musing mode (though really when am i not) because i just finished a book of essays from my all time favorite column - "modern love" in the new york times. every sunday, a different writer captures a snapshot or snippet of love in their lives - so this book was an anthology of a bunch of these - from essays about finding new love, breakups, and affairs, to adopting orphans and losing loved ones to cancer - the list of love topics was endless. sadly this book was not.
i could not put it down. and then felt that pang when i reached the last pages - knowing it was coming to an end.
it is so easy to get caught up in the lives of others - to glimpse into the everyday heartaches and heartbreaks of people. and then of course, you realize that your own life has plenty of these essays in it too - half-written, half-thought through stories, summing up your relationships, your regrets, your happy memories.
yes, yes - schmaltz city. but sometimes you have to be, don't you.
posted by mad at 5:03 PM
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