I was listening to a Jordan Peterson lecture on personality and he was referencing he 5 pillars of personality. I’ve taken that test, and the personality tests.

I come up on the extremes in a lot of tests. I am EXTREMELY extroverted…which is weird, because I don’t always want to be around people…I like my alone time

and yet

I think I need to give myself room for being around people. Like performance. performance or some such that is in the space time and space. This long distance stuff is not the same.

It’s close.

hmmm….

I probably need to eat breakfast. Things feel kinda wrong. I’m not confident I can find my way back to excitment

It’s almost assuredly a lack of breakfast

I meant to do a lot this weekend.

I did a lot. Not what I thought i would do, but a good amount of things.

I didn’t write as much as I hoped. I ended up doing family things.

I’m trying to make room for more creativity. I guess my expectation for myself as I endeavor to make room for creativity is that i will PRODUCE more creative output.

Not so much. Not yet

I’m making space. I’m putting little blog entries here, tucking them away like seeds underground.

Or slingshotting my pebble into the universe.

Either way, they are outputs into the great “who cares?”

I care. I will sling my barbaric yawp into the vast galactic internet.
The point is the action, not the audience.

I wouldn’t mind an audience though.

I am trying to write on my blog every day. I used to do that. It seems like I HAVE to do it at the beginning of the day or it gets lost

I wonder if I could make time in the middle to Clea my head for thoughts?

It feels like it wouldn’t work.

But I could try

arbitrary boundaries

I’m the one that drew the line in the sand

it’s only sand

BUT THIS IS SERIOUS!

no laughing matter

I MEAN IT!

but I’d rather be laughing

can’t we dig a hole in the sand instead? and see if a hole is more interesting than a line?

What else can this sand do?

I read treasure island for the first time this month. I loved it

I want to do a book review but I haven’t taken he time to sit and prepare.

I did buy a copy for Veronica.

Chris found an essay talking about how Stevenson is underrted

the essay rocked my world.

STORIES MATTER

the more fun the better, honestly. And the gorgeously makes them even more valuable.

I am more inspired to keep doing my book reviews. To savor the HELL out of these stories the tmean so much to me

things I pay attention to are the things that grow

I am taking the time. I have not given in the time. The lockdown took me on strange paths, old programming and I hid. I was not the only one who went very primal.

I didn’t feel like I could be alone with my thoughts. The thoughts had monsters. the greek chorus of the news screamed warnings of monsters…or maybe the news was the monster

I couldn’t hear myself think. I didn’t want to hear myself think. So I slammed the door and took it somewhere else.

I want my thoughts back. I miss the beautiful stories and words I remember creating so easily.

maybe that ease is a false memory. Maybe it was harder than I rememver

but I did create. I am tracing bak to find my old tools and habits

this is one. making the time to think

MY

thoughts

I want to share them too, but I have to have them again.

Hello wonderblog my old freind.

I heard a lot of people this year speak badly about turkey. 

Thanksgiving turkey is traditional, as well as a number of other dishes. The familiar and the comforting sensations as we gather aroudn the table and observe the holiday. 

Was this the same as last year? I’m not sure they all blur together. What was different this year? The point was to be the same, wasn’t it? 

It must have been the same. It must have been different. 

It’s too close to see. 

I am taking a minute to look at what has been happening this last year, and what I would like to be happening. I do that a lot. With things were different, rail against how my life is not how I wish it might be. 

It’s too close to see.  

I went to a public place with other smells, sounds and voices and wrote down what I wished were happening. What am I hoping for? Is it really missing? 

If I reach for categories—What am I doing that is creative? What am I doing that uses my voice? What am I doing that make me grow? 

Upon examination, I am surprised to see more than I realized. I am not so hopeless as I feared. 

Gretchen Rubin wrote a book titled The Happiness Project. She was exploring what it meant to be happy and how to be more of it. I remember her writing that if she weren’t able to recognize that she was actually happy, she wouldn’t get the full benefit of it. 

Holly Golightly in Breakfast at TIffany’s didn’t know her cat belongeduntil he was gone. And Dorothy in The Wizard of Oz took her whole epic adventure to realize she had the secret to getting home all along. 

Happiness could be so worn out I don’t see it anymore. I am tired of these comfortable shoes, but it turns out all the others are just wrong. 

I put a coat of polish on the shoes and maybe I can feel newly satisfied. Or at least know that I am not and begin to look for something better. 

When I started this blog I blogged more than once a day.

Of thereabouts.

I miss the ideas and there freedom I had in my writing. could I be so free again? I have gotten much better at writing. but less prolific.

I want more proliferation in my writing I think. so. If I want it I think I have to create it. If I made the time every day to write a blog post what would that cost me? What would that give me?

Do I still have ideas? I think so. I just don’t entertain them as much as I would like to.

Com, ideas. Sit down. Stay for a while.

In the beginning was the words
I always had the words
Shards to fit
Form the outline of myself in the world
The outline of the world itself
I had to form myself to fit
Into the mysterious
Beautiful
Terrifying
Universe of all that is
All the things my words could imagine

Until
I dropped
Into
A world that words forgot

Overwhelmeed
Underwater
Over under hard out

Edgeless
Feelings at the speed of light
All the feelings
All the light
And all the dark as well

Uncontained

Past the borders
Of the word

One word

ME

Hold on to that one word

Me

Gonna need it
To find my way back
To the rest of the words
Words that form and fit this world

Is it me? Me?

Me that fits the world?

The word?

Can I form the word—the words?
To fit the world
To form the world
To form the words
The word


ME

In the space between the words

My world