Eight years ago I had a Live Journal account. I used it maybe 3 times, mostly to jaunt into my mind to pull out the most random, immature ideas I held at the time. Seeing how that was college and my early 20s, who knows how important or appropriate those thoughts were. It served to get out what I was thinking because I was dealing with a lot of crap. I find it impossible to keep my mind still; sometimes it’s slowed, but never “racing”. I’m always thinking of something. An interest fleeting or concrete. Something I would like to pursue or pass up.
I’m attempting again to maintain a blog. It’s my connection to the world outside Christopher. Transcendent almost, but necessary. It will help scrape the plate from which I frequently eat. It will allow reality to be friend and foe. Between my obligations of family, school, and work, I have little time to decompress. There are moments when I hide, usually in the bathroom, just to have “without” time. That is time without everything else. I need it. More than anyone else, I need it to counteract those period when I want to bang my head off a wall.
Yeah, as if I need another thing to do. This is nothing 5 to 10 minutes to jaunt out-of-my-head into the Land of Wherever and Whatever, the place of mystical real obligations. I need to go there, but I don’t have time. I need to make time. It is my recovery room. This will be my recovery room.
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