Tuesday, December 6

Forgive your heart (don't spend too much time on that)

The title of the post comes from the liner notes in Broken Social Scene's It's All Gonna Break. I don't know if they are lyrics, or just little notes about the song; the liner notes are maddeningly vague about everything. But I put it up there because it made a lot of sense to me, today, when I read it.

I've been spending too much energy debating politics, I think, over in the SGC forums. You'd almost think I don't have anything better to do. And in this, you'd be right. What the fuck am I doing, arguing with people who want to negate my arguments by calling me intolerant? As if by using that word, they can get me to become a coward instead of a liberal-because if you're liberal and don't just want to allow bullshit to happen, you're intolerant, and should back down so idiots, assholes, and greedy bastards can do what they want. Fuck that.

Conversely; why am I putting my energy into talking to them? I haven't written anything in terms of stories or poems in months, and that just makes me feel weak, as though I'm failing something I barely understand. But I have no trouble working up the righteousness to tell someone their views on the sale of the morning after pill are fucked up. Good lord, this is your life, and you're losing it one minute at a time.

An old, loose thread has started to get taut again. I hate loose ends, usually represented by people who drift out of my life, either ripped by the tides, or seperated slowly by current. I keep trying to let it be, since I don't have the personality to cut it off, and my distaste of loose ends keeps it around, in hopes I'll be able to knot it someday. Truthfully, I guess I'm not so much bothered by the thread getting a tug, so much as the motives behind that. This thread belongs to a sweater I don't trust to keep me warm anymore, and I just don't know what to do with that. The whole thing could be repaired, useable, though not good as new. Or maybe it just stays as is.

Lately, though, I've just felt a whole lot like moping. Stay in bed too long, never go out, semi-hostile to everyone kind of moping. I've felt like this before, and traditionally, my answer to this has been writing and/or therapy. Instead of those things, I've been playing videogames, tricking out Magic decks and watching the Daily Show, coupled with shots of Jager. In truth, I guess I just miss writing, and need to find a way to work it back into my life on a regular basis. If I don't, what becomes of me? I don't exactly know, I just know that not writing makes me less happy.

I don't want to close this post. I feel like there's something I should say and haven't. Some thorn that doesn't want to come out, but needs pulling. I've got nothin', though. Or, better to say, I've got plenty, but little that can be made coherent and write well, in the time I have for this post. Work calls, and I should actually do a task that I'm paid for. I just hate hitting the Publish button with the vague unease in my chest.

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