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Lost Thoughts and Other Things

I have had approximately three million ideas for rants and ramblings this week, good ideas, and of course as soon as I sit down to write them, they are entirely lost to me.

I had a dream a long time ago in which at the end I turned into a hawk and was and flying over a green forest. "Sing," the Inner Voice said, "Sing of the Beauty of Mother Earth and all you see."

I try to sing of what I see but it often seems that when I am seeing something worth "singing" about I am in no position to express anything in any way. I resolve to take a journal with me wherever I go, but when I've done that in the past, things don't come to me.

Perhaps I'm just making excuses, I don't know.

I love to write, but writing is hard sometimes. It takes effort to make things sound write, and it takes bravery to say sometimes even what seems like the simplest of things.

I did have not my real journal (which has not been written in in eons) but my "Death Quaker Journal," which I had been using to record some of my comic strip ideas and other things. I had begun to have a thought which I only briefly wrote down before the shuttle bus got too jumpy to write legibly and without headache. But it was simply about the "selfish voice we all have."

Actually, I don't know if we all have a "selfish voice," but if you do you will know what I am talking about. There's that little part of my mind that's a pragmatic survivor, the part of me that says awful things in response to situations–"yeah, well so you can't see your friends anymore but at least that gives you more time to work and write." Worse things than that even, things I am embarrassed to share. The "thank god (s)he's gone" kind of thoughts. It's a part of the mind that isn't evil, though, just a survivor... not all the thoughts are awful of course, but it's just that... I guess sometimes the practical, pragmatic response to things aren't always the nice, compassionate things. It's a horrible voice, and yet a necessary one. It's a reality check voice, used in conjuction with the whole of my personality. I am assuming that everyone, or most everyone has this side of their personality... just is tempered by emotion, compassion, other things.

I think lots of people have this voice because I think it's probably what drives people without compassion.

Wow, that was a great tangent! See, but it still wasn't as interesting as what I was originally thinking when I was thinking about it on the shuttle bus. I thought of something profound and eloquent, but you shall never know because I have since forgotten it.

I think I also wanted to write about fears about impending war and the fact that the hospital is charging me ridiculous amounts of money for my tetanus shot... and my sadness that there are probably people out there that, rather than deal with the ridiculousness of health care costs, just risk lockjaw and infection.

*sigh* So much of this world is a sad sad place. Perhaps it's better some of these thoughts have gotten lost along the way.


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All original materials © 2003 R. Pickard