All day today, from the moment I woke up, and probably to the moment I sleep, I will have been doing. I woke up realizing I had three major assignments and a whole host of smaller things to take care of within the next three days' time. From then on, it was focus, productivity, or at least multitasking. Even when I stopped paying attention, I was reading more profitable material than I usual divert myself with. In short, I wish everyday were like this day instead of the nothing I usually engage in.... except....
It is a hollow wish. "I wish I were more productive. I wish I thought profoundly more often." Of course I wish these things, but there is a missing component. A why or a strength of mind or an emotion that is not behind this "desire" - in truth I cannot call it a desire because it is missing this critical component-I-cannot-name.
I do not feel proud, exhilarated, or successful despite how admirably I worked, dedicated, and accomplished my tasks. The same way I don't feel bad when I, rationally evaluating, have atrociously wasted my time. (I ought to think it is atrocious, but I definitely don't) One use is better than the other, but merely by default.
But now... now I am pensive. Absorbing all around me twofold. This is what I seek and desire. Not productivity or lack thereof, that is meaningless in comparison to the matter of how I engage in either.
However, I choose to go to be social and sacrifice this perfect profoundness I now possess. Because it is good for me, and this frame of mind will just have to wait for an unscheduled time.
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Today I felt the most like who I think I am, or who I used to be, or who I normally am, whatever,
I don't know anymore.
That.... simple state of action, all logical but unthinking. I was doing my work because I had to do my work. It made sense, it was right, there was nothing to think about, just do it because it is required. I call it practicality, when I refer to this... just... obviously right actions that I do without qualm or reflection. And then when I got distracted during the day a bit, it was just good and nothing fantastic nor terrible. And when I started to feel like doing something meaningful, I did, but it was more fanciful then serious or thoughtful. And the conversation I had that night about interesting, serious topics with some acquaintances was just that.
Interesting.
That was it.
I came back to spend most all the evening catching up and preparing for tomorrow after wasting some time being lazy. I worked, listening to Imogen Heap and it reminded me strongly of how I like it now in the same way as I liked it back when I first heard it. And then the lyrics started to play in my mind,
It's not meant to be like this, not what I planned at all, I don't want to feel like this, Yeah,
No it's not meant to be like this, not what I planned at all,
I don't want to feel like this, so that makes it all your fault.
Inside out, upside-down twisting beside myself,
Stop that now; you're as close as it gets without touching me,
Oh no, don't make it harder than it already is,
Mmm, I feel a weakness coming on.
That's the way it was with me. Life was pleasant and I knew my place in it. But it was also vacant and I didn't need anything more than just acting for practical reasons and trusting that that would be what was best. That was what life was about, right? Doing what was obviously right and getting ahead while you could so you could coast through any problems that might arise.
Getting the chance to store up chances and good fortune so that you can call upon it any time you wanted or needed. That was what life was about. And life was good.
And tonight I don't think I can call upon much to contradict that. Except I still have a small part of me that wants more. And now I feed that part instead of tucking it away.
I don't just smile vacantly at my reflective thoughts, pleased but placid. Now I draw them out and mark them and interpret them. I write dissertations and investigations. I feel pangs of poetry in certain thoughts that hang in the air. And I work myself up over desires that I can't fulfill perfectly because of a conflict between reason and sentiment.
So I was so virtuous today. And yet, how soulless compared to the days I buried myself in musing and inclination.
And still I know how terrible it would have been if I had spoken those words of sparking purport. How much I would have strayed from being practical and taking care of things I need and have to take care of. How much danger and harm I would have started towards doing myself.
But still, it can only to be said ill that I am here, now, typing these parched words instead of trying to sift the deluge of thought and catalyst and vitality and sincerity that proliferates when I summon the thoughts forth.
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And yet. Yet now that I have returned to sound judgement and practicality and my old self. While that other part of me exists, the one that whispers this isn't all there is to life. There is another part of me that whispers, "yes it is." For all of your passion and truth, it is but fantasy. A land of pretend for the sake of a teenage mind, sick with irrationality and seeking for something that isn't there and never will be. Pretend. Not profoundness. All of that struggle is for lies. Oh it's fine to keep going along that dead-end path, but it will only run out eventually. All of that passion and care and inspiration is falsehood born of a fevered mind. You'll come around eventually. You'll forget that silly game and leave behind your childish wonder.
(Nooo nooo noo, don't let it be true, don't fall for a vacant life, don't go back to never touching anything, never being touched by anything. Somebody, something, stop me)
TL;DR
*frustrated* It's not /fair./ I want to /talk./ I want to /think./ But all today I had things to attend to. And now I have to sleep. Because those are things that are /normal/ and /necessary/ and why can't the other things be just as important. I mean they are (and more so?) but they don't get the same free ride.... It's so unfair I can't even think about this because it's late. I'm not tired, but I have to go to sleep. *frustratedfrustrated*
And this practical necessity. It will never end.
Prepare. For what?
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