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sublingua | |||||
| The heart with a mind of its own.(Be present.) | The mind with a heart of its own.(It's past.) | The dream that is your waking life.(Go there now.) | |||
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The Demon Who Hides Under A Magnifying Glass
The internal alarms went off like crazy this morning as I approached the university. My heart felt like a sponge that someone was squeezing the hell out of, trying to get every drop of blood out. I could barely speak. Is it anxiety over school? It may be, but if I'm being honest, I'd have to say that, no, it isn't. I'd have to say that it doesn't resemble the usual kind of school anxiety. I mean, school anxiety hasn't felt like this in the past. And that doesn't mean that I'm not open to a different feeling, to letting go of the old feeling, but that there is probably a different interpretation for it, for the same feeling, this time. But how do you know which interpretation is correct? I suppose the easy answer (and by that of course I mean that it's the easiest answer to come up with and the hardest answer to live down) is that you can't know so you just have to trust yourself. (How quickly I depersonalized that. I wonder why.) What I should say is: I just have to trust myself. Trust myself to do what? Well, to correctly interpret what I'm feeling, for one. And the interpretation is crazy, so I won't put it down here. (In fact, I find in general that, with this feeling, the crazier a given interpretation is or seems to me, the more correct it tends to be. And that is almost entirely a function of how I view the world in an everyday sort of manner. And by that I mean that I think the world is a bit (and often more than a bit) fucked up normally, so that the more fucked up I let my thinking get, the closer I come to correctly interpreting what's happening in the world around me). I'm probably not making a whole lot of sense. But if you're worried about things making sense, maybe you should hop on over to Weetabix's place, where you can read instead about the latest candle flavors down at Bed, Bath, & Beyond. (And did I just take a pot shot at Weet, who is one of my all-time favorite diarists despite the rampant consumerism, and who sent me an xmas card last year signed with her real name, something that made me giddy?) I'm just not myself today. Which is probably a good thing, because I'm feeling like not such a good person today. For posterity: Sophistica's message on my answering machine, asking the brilliant question: "Are you sure you're not The Demon Who Hides Under A Magnifying Glass?"
More lies:
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