2002-11-12 - 8:56 a.m.

--Tuesday--

Morning. Statement.

I'm trying to heave myself into the day. I think I'm getting back on schedule. It was only a few days ago that I went to sleep at 3am, and only a day or so after that that I was woken up from 4-5:30 am. What do I expect from my body?

I ask that because I'm sitting here wondering the "why is this happening to me" kind of wonderings, when really I'm in a life of my own choosing.

I know what would do me some good: biking to work in the snow and working my ass of at work, doing some honest frickin labour today. That would make me feel like something purposeful was going on in the confines of my "stupid little life" to borrow a phrase. I'm not that upset. This diary just magnifies my thoughts because I concentrate so hard on them to get them out onto the page.

Hmm.. and then I wonder. *Am* I that upset? If I were to consider all possible degrees of upsettedness and rank today's feeling on that scale, I know it would be pretty low. I'm not smiling or anything. But because I'm not sitting at rock bottom or pushing it, I'm *not* upset? I suppose I could say I'm partially upset with a 30% chance of bitching. Ha. Carl made a funny. He thinks not.

But it does not follow that he is not.

No, I just keep being here. It's the fact of my life. It brings me back to my childhood.. this continual discovery of existence. Everytime I stop doing whatever else, it just slowly suffuses me... "here I am. I am here. There is a me, and there is a here." I've been thinking back toward my first thoughts a bit more lately. I've been wondering what exactly those thoughts were. I go swirling away into primordial memory-territory and feel flashes in the raw wetness of my brain. I want to go back there. Or at least I think I do, but I know I don't/shouldn't. Here I am, after all.

Damn I want some pot. It's not the substance I'm addicted to, it's the thoughts. I have hundreds of pages and files stored on disk that record my rambling thoughts while high. "Stoner notes" I call them. Thoughts on thought. Sometimes as simple as: "today I wrote an M instead of a B", other times long discourses like "thunderstorms of thought", a pondering on how an event observed or experienced by a large number of people is remembered slightly differently by each, and how knowledge of the event spreads slowly through social fabric of our world, like a slow motion lighting bolt; fastest at the core and rippling outwards in thundering echoes.

Not a good description. I wish I had more time to write today. Maybe I will do well at work today since I'm taking the time to think about my diary writing like this.

It's snowing out today. We're supposed to get 5 cm today (that's 2 inches for you backwards Imperial type people) and when I heard that I got rather excited.. couldn't help feeling that "school might be out today" feeling. Gosh, I could write a whole entry just on that. If I was stoned, I believe I would. I loved the idea as a child that the weather could affect everyone so deeply and so randomly. It reminded me that even if we were technologically advanced, we were still helpless denizens of an impossibly powerful world. It made me feel so much closer to everyone else because the same thing was happening to them as was happening to me. The blankets of snow were softening and filling gaps and smoothing edges and cuddling the earth and bringing everything closer somehow by making the world a smaller, more comforting place.

But alas, those days are long gone. I'm not a child any more. All I can hope to do is have some of my own and relive these wonderful times vicariously. Today I'm fully expected to get to work, regardless of the weather. If things were to get so bad as to completely prevent anyone from getting anywhere, Tom would still call me at home to ask me how things were going and if I was logged on remotely yet. Not that there's a problem with that.. I mean, I don't need to go to the office to do my job. It's just that lost childhood... what? What have I lost? I think maybe I've gained instead. I've gained an expectation of work whereas as a child I was being given a grace period where some days they let me slack off.

And to top it off, I would like some coffee. I just looked into the bottom of my cup of orange juice and felt a warm steaming cup of coffee in my hands. I was sitting in Robin's Donuts (I hate the Americanised spelling) on Memorial Ave, looking out the window at the snow, with the slow warm buzz of caffeine spreading through me. Would you believe in the time it took to life that cup, I imagined that tingly feeling when your ears are starting to warm up from a nice chilly excursion.. little details like that amaze me when they happen in such a short time period. I think there must be more to the idea than I'm realising. Hmm.. I suddenly want to stop using the American Z in some "British" words.

K, wow.. this entry went all over the place and it went there for far too long. It's 8:53 and I haven't eaten yet. At least I got the most important task of the day finished.. a lovingly-crafted diary entry.

It's still snowing. I'm looking forward to the drive. Hope there aren't too many maniacs out there. It's good I'm not heading to the office immediately because just before and around 9:00am there are some reckless drivers on the road. That lost population of 90210 fools rushing madly to their shitty jobs, weaving from lane to lane while cradling a coffee and chatting on their cell phone. I hope for their sake they are lucky this morning and don't kill themselves and others.

Ok.. drawing this out to a close. Don't feel like going, for once. Must be back on the rise :o)

Hey. A first creeping smile. It's lingering on my face too. Oops.. just got bigger. I feel like I got to see the sunrise after all this morning.

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