I like to write; so I wonder why I allow myself to be so damned distracted. I finally reached David's call on time last week, or at least before the cut-off. The call is called tough conversations, and I didn't bring any. So maybe this post can start with a list of tough conversations that might be worth having:
- What does it matter what I call what I have with my wife?
- Am I running away by wanting to be here?
- Why is it I allow myself to be so distracted?
- Why must I eat?
- Why do I feel so ashamed to lean on the Hannas so much?
- Why is it so much easier to learn here?
- Why can't I forgive my former self?
- Why do I waste my time asking why questions?
- What do I need to let go of to be present?
- What is it that calls to me when I am?
- What does it matter?
- What are the things that are worth giving my time to?
- Which of those are presently available?
- Which might pay as I get good at them?
- How should I get started?
- Is there anything I really want to know?
- Can I sing? Do I have the patience to develop that art?
Who wants of my help right now, whether s/he knows it or not?
It's been a weird few days. I get a bit depressed sometimes. Today, I ate chocolate. I went down hard after that. I think I shouldn't touch the stuff.
I also rescued some tapes from Miriam's car. I've been enjoying the Billy Joel. But it also takes me to a time. There are a lot of memories here. I remembered our last Volkswagen, and wished I could drive that again. I remember driving around aimlessly with Mike Conetta. He's dead now. I remember being younger, but also more lost, though I wonder how that can be sometimes. I think I had more hope then.
So, I am fixing my bicycle, which I had originally bought with pop in mind. And I thought how resistant he was to innovation even then, some thirty years ago. I guess it happened long before computers.
And I have so many thoughts, but they come to me in the car, or in my sleep, and now they have passed, and I will sleep, to maybe discover some more.