The stopwatch starts and I take off as I am trying to get this done soon. I need to get some rest tonight as there was little rest last night, but at the same time I’m going to try and cram a fair bit into this bit of writing. Not sure if it will work or not, but it will, but it might be slower than I would hope. Such is the way of things and such is the way of my doing this bit of writing, or something.
There are other things that I would very much like to take care of at the moment, but rest is required and so instead I do this bit of cramming. I write about it as I do it as that somehow makes it better… somehow.
Music is relaxing and perhaps that is the way it should be at the moment. Really, I should be resting now, but I am stubborn and stubbornness is something that I cling to in the hopes that it will turn into something that I can grapple and wield and use in a way that does not see use too often. Not sure as to how I would go about this, but I would find a way, unless I didn’t, in which case, I wouldn’t. Still, it’s that kind of thinking that drives things to where they may need to be driven (assuming they need to be driven at all, of course), and it is that kind of thinking that guides my hands across the keys of which I strike in order to create the words, and then you get the rest of the idea and I’ll just keep on going with whatever it is that I am trying to go on with.
There’s a strong sense of aimlessness here, and perhaps that is okay. Perhaps it is okay to feel aimless in the face of obligation, but at the same time perhaps I don’t want to feel that way. There are other ways of which I’d much rather feel, but perhaps aimlessness is all okay right now. Not writing anything in particular and just wandering across the keys and meandering across the words leads to its own sense of identity, or something that makes me sound more profound than I actually am.
Getting distracted at the moment and perhaps that is a sign that I should rest sooner rather than later. I think I said earlier that I should just rest now, but I want to finish this and I want to finish a few other things. I want to rest a lot, however, and perhaps that will mean that this stops before I finish it off, but then if I did that, could I really feel satisfied with what it was that I wrote? Could I really find solace in something that is as incomplete as it is complete? Does this even matter anymore?
The answer is likely to be “no”. Maybe it’s also “yes”.
The time it took to write five-hundred words: 05:00:14
I’m really tired at the moment. A little surprised that there’s any coherency in this.
Written at home.