Tag Archives: worry

Journal – Brain overdose

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An average day PMSing:

I have doubted my bread consumption, worried about getting bunion surgery, worried about my vaccines, doubted the entire medical field, worried about calories, tried to figure what the hell it is about butyrate, worried about Huntington’s, worried about my sister quitting sugar, grown frustrated at the lack of substance to online research, researched online how people research online, hated on the fallibility of the media, hated on food trends, hated on trend haters, considered joining a gym, considered buying a weight set, considered cycling to work and abandoned the concept for the millionth time, bashed myself for abandoning the concept of cycling to work, worried about the poorly maintained areas in my house, worried about the quality of my writing, worried about whether I’ll finish my comic… of course this is the hyper-condensed version, and all within the space of a few hours.

Do you see why I love meditation? I can’t believe lots of normal people go through life thinking like this every day. I can see it in their eyes. They’re always on high alert, waiting for reality to pounce.

I’d like to trade in my higher brain for nothing. Just leave it hollow. We only need a primitive brainstem to function anyway. Lizard smiles from me to you!

 

smile

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

On Damaged Friends

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There is a man

who wanders into my cube occasionally

to chat.

It’s a welcome break from office tedium.

I brighten up and smile.

He sees me brighten up and always seems shocked, then brightens up himself.

Having seen this, I brighten up some more.

I have to wonder,

Does no one else smile when he walks in?

Does he get so little affection in life

that it only takes this amount of love to throw him?

 

When I was a kid, we used to pass a boy on our rural back road

standing at a muddy, grassy bend.

Just standing.

He used to wave

and I would wave back.

“He’s retarded,” my  mom would say dismissively.

As if that made his all-inclusive friendliness less meaningful.

But she would wave as well.

I was always happy to see him.

 

There is a man who stands on his front lawn

In a derelict part of town.

Every day on the way to work I pass him by.

He waves to everyone whose face and car he recognizes.

We wave back.

Often he has more than one person on the lawn with him

sometimes sitting on his sidewalk steps

sometimes standing with their backs to him and chatting to one another.

His house seems to be a gathering place

at seven in the morning.

But I am a grown woman now

so when I pass him by

I worry about him.