So, here we are, at the start of another week of work and I’m tired and all of those things. I’m all and every one of those things. Constantly and never, but right now definitely.

Did a bit of hiking yesterday. Did a bit of very little the day prior. Here now. Sitting down, resting, preparing for the day ahead. Screaming internally and looking forward, and listening to Toad the Wet Sprocket and they aren’t bad. This is a nice bit of music to be hearing right now. Makes me think of one of the things I’m working on, and that’s a good thing, or perhaps not as I should be thinking about other things.

Or should I? What should I be thinking about at the present moment? Thoughts are often so spread out and they lead the way, so does it matter all that much? I can only follow where they lead, or be dragged along through all the lack of focus and all those other things. I can only go through the motions of having to experience my thoughts and right now there probably isn’t something in particular that I should be thinking about. I’m just doing my thing, sitting here, getting along and all that. I’m resting as I’m sore, or rather I’m tired.

I feel like I should be sore but I’m not. To be fair, the hiking wasn’t the most strenuous, but it was tough, and maybe Ill write about it later, but there are other things to take care of, as always. All those other things that are always there, hanging about, crowding my mind and making me wonder if what I’m thinking is what I should be thinking, or  if there are other things to think, or nothing at all… you get the idea.

I’m here, perched on this chair, sitting like a person perched on this chair. I’m sitting here, resting, reclining, wondering how the day will go now. I’m thinking about the intensity of the morning as it will be an intense first hour. A lot of running around, getting things sorted, making sure things work, preparing for the rest of the day. I just want to rest. I don’t want to be tired and I want to think more about this music and its shape and form, and how it seems to be everything and nothing expressed in a few minutes. It passes with the day and the day passes as though a breeze moving beyond where it can be felt by one person, disappearing and never entering memory, but having made its impact by that being as natural as its motion.

But music does hold in memory. Not always, of course, but it usually does, among all those other things that sit there, moving through the main focus and holding attention where necessary, and I sit here, just waiting and being beholden to whatever it is that I must. Anyway, soon work commences and my thoughts will change again.

The time it took to write five-hundred words: 06:36:75

So parts of this I think are quite strong. However, I feel that, overall, this is a disjointed bit of writing.

Written at work.