Why are we always pushing forward so? You can be faster, better, richer, thinner, more well dressed, prettier and have a nicer car. It's nonstop. Your t.v. is now too small, your laptop outdated, you're eating at the wrong restaurant and the toe of shoes are wrong: they're now supposed to be square/round/pointed. You could have a better job, earn more money, have an affair and get a boob job. What's going on here? Where is this pressure coming from?
I don't know. This is a weird weekend. I was supposed to meet up with Big D and Po today, but cancelled saying I wasn't feeling well. It's an easy catch all, this 'not feeling well'. What am I supposed to say? I'm currently feeling so indecisive that it took me fifteen minutes to pick out what I wanted for dinner tonight. In the past couple of weeks I've not exactly been on my best behaviour and have courted (and received) disaster. Thoughts that I would normally have dismissed as irrational I have allowed to seep into my subconscious.
Why? Why not leave well enough alone? I don't know where this restlessness is coming from. I don't want to do what everyone else is doing anymore. I don't want to go to work on Monday, I don't want to do the audit. There are bigger things going on, but I'm not sure entirely what they are or what I'm supposed to do about it.
It has something to do with the elderly lady that came in to White Spot for dinner tonight. I'd says she was in her eighties and she went up to the bar and was struggling to get up into the chair, so a nice couple nearby gave her a hand, which I thought was goddamn fantastic. And she was all alone, this lady. Why is someone's grandmother out, on her own, at White Spot on a Saturday night? She ordered some ice cream and ate it quietly at the bar. It killed me. I told this to Michael and he said, "T-, just come and visit my grandmother at the old age home. It makes me come close to crying just thinking about it. I think 'what is she doing now? How much fun is she having?'".
Ah. I was doing alright for a while. I was in the moment. I was zen. Then I fell off the spirituality/inner peace wagon. And landed on my head. And have a huge karmic headache. I was going with the flow and accepting everything, and now I'm back to questioning it all. It's hard to go from seeing the prostitutes with their drug ravaged faces in the alley in Lower Lonsdale this morning, to being outside Home Sense at Park Royal and seeing some bleached blonde size four soccer mom getting agitated as a stock boy tries to fit a bunch of patio furniture into the back of her Range Rover. I picked up an empty (Ruffles? Doritos?) chip bag and put it in the can because it looked so garish against all the beautiful and sunny daffodils. It's all connected somehow. The insolent confidence of the patrons at Crema versus our frantic waitress trying to keep her wits about her at dinner tonight; the sliding scale of wealth and choices and our internal ranking system of what's important.
I know what's important. I have all the things that are important. I could not conceivably ask for a single thing more than I already have.
So why do I do it?
I don't know. This is a weird weekend. I was supposed to meet up with Big D and Po today, but cancelled saying I wasn't feeling well. It's an easy catch all, this 'not feeling well'. What am I supposed to say? I'm currently feeling so indecisive that it took me fifteen minutes to pick out what I wanted for dinner tonight. In the past couple of weeks I've not exactly been on my best behaviour and have courted (and received) disaster. Thoughts that I would normally have dismissed as irrational I have allowed to seep into my subconscious.
Why? Why not leave well enough alone? I don't know where this restlessness is coming from. I don't want to do what everyone else is doing anymore. I don't want to go to work on Monday, I don't want to do the audit. There are bigger things going on, but I'm not sure entirely what they are or what I'm supposed to do about it.
It has something to do with the elderly lady that came in to White Spot for dinner tonight. I'd says she was in her eighties and she went up to the bar and was struggling to get up into the chair, so a nice couple nearby gave her a hand, which I thought was goddamn fantastic. And she was all alone, this lady. Why is someone's grandmother out, on her own, at White Spot on a Saturday night? She ordered some ice cream and ate it quietly at the bar. It killed me. I told this to Michael and he said, "T-, just come and visit my grandmother at the old age home. It makes me come close to crying just thinking about it. I think 'what is she doing now? How much fun is she having?'".
Ah. I was doing alright for a while. I was in the moment. I was zen. Then I fell off the spirituality/inner peace wagon. And landed on my head. And have a huge karmic headache. I was going with the flow and accepting everything, and now I'm back to questioning it all. It's hard to go from seeing the prostitutes with their drug ravaged faces in the alley in Lower Lonsdale this morning, to being outside Home Sense at Park Royal and seeing some bleached blonde size four soccer mom getting agitated as a stock boy tries to fit a bunch of patio furniture into the back of her Range Rover. I picked up an empty (Ruffles? Doritos?) chip bag and put it in the can because it looked so garish against all the beautiful and sunny daffodils. It's all connected somehow. The insolent confidence of the patrons at Crema versus our frantic waitress trying to keep her wits about her at dinner tonight; the sliding scale of wealth and choices and our internal ranking system of what's important.
I know what's important. I have all the things that are important. I could not conceivably ask for a single thing more than I already have.
So why do I do it?
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