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MP: Some Days It's Just Mud
Feb. 28th, 2010 02:38 amI think I have a new meaning for the M in MP: Midnight. OK, technically it's 2 AM, which I suppose makes it also "morning". Although there's the whole thing where morning is that time that comes after whatever counted as your sleep for the "night". I think most people don't free-run with respect to time as easily as I do, and hey, I'm not complaining. I adore this about myself. I like doing clock parkour.
Sleep is actually calling. I think. I mean, I hope if I lie down and turn off the lights, I'll sleep. I ended up sleeping most of today, due to a stomach ache, although I recovered enough by the end of the day to go out and have sushi and see a movie with a friend I hadn't talked to in over 25 years. This guy, Brent, was a classmate from 5th through 8th grade, and his dad was close friends with my stepdad's best friend. See how transitive that is? But I never forgot him in part because he was the only half-Chinese kid I'd ever known at that point, and in part because he spelled his last name unusually - it starts with an Hs but is pronounced as if it started with Sh, which is some kind of strange romanization scheme for that Chinese name, I'm assuming.
Anyway I always thought he was cool. And then I sorta kinda reconnected with him on the whole Facebook thing, and it turns out he lives out here and works at Stanford. So when he posted a thing yesterday asking if any of his local friends wanted to see Seven Samurai at the Kurosawa film festival at the Stanford Theatre tonight, I said hey, we haven't talked since we were 13 or so, but can I crash? And he said sure, and he hoped my hair was blue like in my FB pic, so he'd recognize me.
So today I met him and a couple of his friends for sushi and Kurosawa. Immodium to the rescue, and I was glad I napped all afternoon. We got to the theatre and it turned out Seven Samurai was really last night, and today was Rashomon which isn't as awesome a film, but is still pretty damn good.
And it was cool to talk to Brent. Also he's kinda hot in that nerdboy way that I really go for. Single and straight, too, evidently. But that's just a minor fantasy. Actually I am just happy to have another friend. I think at this point it would take a lot to get me to consider dating a guy.
Anyway after the movie I bought groceries,came home and watched Tivoed Olympics coverage, and tried to just float. I'm not really mellow. Definitely better than yesterday, though. Sorry if I freaked anyone out. That's the risk with this daily writing shit, you see everything.
Is it wrong that despite the awful subject matter, I really liked my own writing on yesterday's Morning Page? Today's, by contrast, has no artistry at all. This is just words to communicate, not words as art, or words to obfuscate. It's kind of painfully dull to me, and yet I persist, because that's the idea behind a daily practice. You do it even when it's hard.
I read something recently that said that if daily prayer is always easy, you're doing it wrong. Some days it's hard. Some days it seems pointless. It's the act of continuing on those days that gives it meaning, somehow. I'm not sure how I feel about that, but I guess it's as good as a rule to keep for these pages as any, Some days the writing is just mud bricks made from straw and dung, and some days it's hand-quarried marble.
Sleep is actually calling. I think. I mean, I hope if I lie down and turn off the lights, I'll sleep. I ended up sleeping most of today, due to a stomach ache, although I recovered enough by the end of the day to go out and have sushi and see a movie with a friend I hadn't talked to in over 25 years. This guy, Brent, was a classmate from 5th through 8th grade, and his dad was close friends with my stepdad's best friend. See how transitive that is? But I never forgot him in part because he was the only half-Chinese kid I'd ever known at that point, and in part because he spelled his last name unusually - it starts with an Hs but is pronounced as if it started with Sh, which is some kind of strange romanization scheme for that Chinese name, I'm assuming.
Anyway I always thought he was cool. And then I sorta kinda reconnected with him on the whole Facebook thing, and it turns out he lives out here and works at Stanford. So when he posted a thing yesterday asking if any of his local friends wanted to see Seven Samurai at the Kurosawa film festival at the Stanford Theatre tonight, I said hey, we haven't talked since we were 13 or so, but can I crash? And he said sure, and he hoped my hair was blue like in my FB pic, so he'd recognize me.
So today I met him and a couple of his friends for sushi and Kurosawa. Immodium to the rescue, and I was glad I napped all afternoon. We got to the theatre and it turned out Seven Samurai was really last night, and today was Rashomon which isn't as awesome a film, but is still pretty damn good.
And it was cool to talk to Brent. Also he's kinda hot in that nerdboy way that I really go for. Single and straight, too, evidently. But that's just a minor fantasy. Actually I am just happy to have another friend. I think at this point it would take a lot to get me to consider dating a guy.
Anyway after the movie I bought groceries,came home and watched Tivoed Olympics coverage, and tried to just float. I'm not really mellow. Definitely better than yesterday, though. Sorry if I freaked anyone out. That's the risk with this daily writing shit, you see everything.
Is it wrong that despite the awful subject matter, I really liked my own writing on yesterday's Morning Page? Today's, by contrast, has no artistry at all. This is just words to communicate, not words as art, or words to obfuscate. It's kind of painfully dull to me, and yet I persist, because that's the idea behind a daily practice. You do it even when it's hard.
I read something recently that said that if daily prayer is always easy, you're doing it wrong. Some days it's hard. Some days it seems pointless. It's the act of continuing on those days that gives it meaning, somehow. I'm not sure how I feel about that, but I guess it's as good as a rule to keep for these pages as any, Some days the writing is just mud bricks made from straw and dung, and some days it's hand-quarried marble.