There is a mental state
I strive to achieve a homeostatic state a humming a lull like those alpha wave tapes they sold in the 60's
I need to hear that in my head all day. Instead of the clanging of my thoughts and the clashing of my
wants versus what I should do need to do and the sad, bright violins from "Sunshine" so melancholy
so consistent that remind me how it is not to have anyone understand
Don't think I'm going down that path. I'm not freaking out about that at all. I LOVE IT. I admire it all the time. I look at it and how it's not altogether white yet. It's turning white. And it's far enough to the front of my head where I don't have to do crazy acrobatics to see it. It's beautiful. And I go with the Japanese when they say that Gray hairs are good luck. I need all the luck I can get. The hair isn't what's signaling old age to me. It's the way my body is feeling lately. The less I do... the more my body starts to shut down. It just ceases to be able to do stuff. And that's just scary to me. But the more I act upon my goals and make them come into fruition, the less I'll have to worry about that. Any day now. Maybe sunday I'll clean. We lose an hour of sleep... *sigh* I'm so tired just thinking about it.
Okay... so the day after I posted about Soldiers and Teachers, I went to one of my frat brother's schools (where he teaches) and participated in a Career day. It's funny because I knew how he was going to introduce me to them. And all the kids were going to hear was that I worked for one of the radio stations that they listen to like crazy. That was it. They had been buzzin about me all day. It was like I was a movie star. They wanted to shake my hand. They wanted my autograph. They wanted to touch me. Why? Not because I'm a (to quote Max): "...a talented: web designer, poet, writer, and entrepreneur." No... not that. It was because I had met 50 Cent and Lloyd Banks and Beyonce and Ludacris. That's why. My brother says, it's the closest they've ever been to the Cult of Personality, they didn't know what to do with themselves. Funny... when I met them all I could have cared less. Just like they couldn't care less when they met me. I saw the disconnect in their eyes. If I wasn't waving a bundle of money (or drugs in some cases) at them, they could give a shit who I was. But these kids hang their every hope and breath on these folks. It's crazy. My baby told me after that he thought I should be a teacher... the way I dealt with them and taught them about what I do. I've imagined doing it. But they couldn't pay me enough to do... See March 25th Post.
I read through APs blog today. What a gifted brother. What a way with words. He's so unafraid of using words the way they can and should be used. Most people fear sounding stupid. But if they'd just let go... the most creative amazing creations would come forth. Just like his poetry. I'm envious at times. I find myself in that position alot. I'm not doing enough. I'm not as fly as I CAN be. Just fly enough to get by and perpetrate the fraud to the rest of the natural world. It's disheartening. I'm the Jacqueline of all Trades and Mistress of none.
I'm tired. I guess i should monopolize on as much sleep as I can get while there's still an "extra" hour of it.
