(no subject)

[thewingedword]

I feel like a twit. An absolute idiot, a first-rate moron, walking around with a blindfold and earmuffs on. The trick, now, is to stop everyone to figure out exactly how my lack of judgement manifested; and, if I can, to prevent such foolish behavior in the future. I am this close to slamming my head against a wall.

I was mentally exhausted last night; so exhausted that my body stopped working quite right because my mind wasn't exerting enough control. I was wearing a pair of slim jeans, quite long- even on me, who usually wears a 36" inseam. I was walking up the stairs on the balls of my feet and somehow (I blame the jeans) my legs just sort of folded underneath me and I was staring at the carpet right under my nose. It was alarming that my mind could fail me in such a way.

So shalt thou rest, and what if thou withdraw
In silence from the living, and no friend
Take note of thy departure? All that breathe
Will share thy destiny.

-Thanatopsis, William Cullen Bryant

This part touched me, for some reason. It makes me feel less alone.

The gay will laugh
When thou art gone, the solemn brood of care
Plod on, and each one as before will chase
His favorite phantom...

Same poem. This one made me laugh, at the mental image of a bunch of people chasing around various phantom versions- and some people chasing two or three at once, or trying.

Comments

[randombattlecry.livejournal.com]

My sister has a fence around her front yard, a tall black iron fence with a small gate inset in it. Two nights ago I arrived (I've been sleeping on their couch) and got out of my car after parking where I always park, right next to the gate. It was only nine or ten or so, and I didn't feel tired. I walk up to the fence and actually say, "Crap," out loud when I think that, somehow, they've removed the gate after I left that morning, leaving only six feet of black, unclimbable iron. I rattled it, I thought I'd have to dismantle it to get in, I nearly panicked.

The gate was six inches to my left.

I'd blame your pants, too, but I don't think they were actually involved.

[kitaloon.livejournal.com]

On sober reflection (not to imply that I was drunk at the time), it's entirely my fault. I have a bad habit of walking always on the edges of stairs, and often one foot slips over and I go flying. Once it happened while I was holding my cat; luckily, he was shielded by my body and suffered no damage.

He managed to do some damage, though.