Circling Cycles And Recycling
These past days I've been feeling like I'm just not seeing it.
Going through my old journals, I've realized I've hit an emotional plateau, or a sort of (semi-permanent) retardation. If my emotional growth were to be charted, then the chart would show a flat-line for the past six years; or, maybe, worse: a constant decline.
Then there's the never-ending cycle - maybe even cycles. My revelations are circular, and my realizations recycled, and that can mean only one thing: I never learn. (See, even this realization is old. I knew I never learn, and would never learn years ago!)
It seems like all I've been doing, am doing (and will be doing), is just circling, and landing doesn't appear to feature anywhere in my flight plans.
So I'm circling, and circling ... still circling, like a pilot unable to land because of unfavorable conditions - such as a lack of visibility, for instance.
The trouble with this constant circling is that, unless you have an enchanted fuel tank that will never empty or is self-replenishing, you're gonna run out of fuel sooner or later; and if you don't land sooner than later, you'll be heading straight for an uncomfortable nose-dive into somewhere (or something) unpleasant. (At that point, you'll find your life-jacket has a hole and will thus be unable to inflate, and your parachute will not open.)
I want to land - hell, I desperately want to land. But I just can't see the damn runway for all the blinking lights. I just cannot see it. It's obscured by a fog or a smog or something. I know, instinctively, that it is there, but I cannot pinpoint where exactly it is.
It's a bit like the TOT (tip of the tongue) - or the 'bathtub' (Jean Aitchison, 1994) - effect: you have a vague (or even a somewhat definite) idea of the sound or 'shape' of the word; you're likely to know the beginning (the 'head') and ending (the 'feet') of the word, and the number of syllables it has; it's just the middle bit(s) - the bit(s) concealed by the bathtub - that you're having problems with.
With this phenomenon (unless you have some form of aphasia or brain damage), the word on the tip of your tongue will eventually come to you. For me, however, I don't see the head or the feet sticking out of the damn bathtub; all I see is the fucking tub. And what I'm not seeing is not at all coming to me.
Every time I flip through the pages that were once written by the girl I used to be, I sense a hidden thread running through all my past and present experiences to my future ones; they're all linked like one huge-ass, hopeless entangled web no self-respecting spider would lay claim to - not even a blind spider without a single molecule of taste.
And I'll prolly go blind trying to untangle it all, but - what the fuck does it matter anyway? - with no foresight and no hindsight, and being impossibly myopic, I'm already blind.
Nevertheless, if I want to stop the cycle(s), stop circling, I'll have to see that thread, the correlation. It's the same thing with karmic cycles (which I believe in): if you didn't learn the lesson your soul was meant to learn - or untangle your karmic knot - in this karmic cycle, you'd be doomed to go through karmic cycle after karmic cycle until you finally do.
At the rate I'm going, I think I'll eligible for the platinum frequent flyer card - thank you for choosing Kismet Travels; Kismet Travels: for the Travel of your Lifetimes.
And with my luck, I'd prolly be scheduled for emergency crash-landing after emergency crash-landing too.
On the bright side (not that I can see it), being blind means I won't be able to see the pants-shating horrors of the hard and unwelcoming ground hurtling towards me at a bowel-loosening velocity when I suddenly run out of fuel and start spiraling to my impending Doom (I won't be able to see my fuel meter either, obviously) ...
Hell, I won't be able to even see my own damned Doom.
(00:37 SGT)
Going through my old journals, I've realized I've hit an emotional plateau, or a sort of (semi-permanent) retardation. If my emotional growth were to be charted, then the chart would show a flat-line for the past six years; or, maybe, worse: a constant decline.
Then there's the never-ending cycle - maybe even cycles. My revelations are circular, and my realizations recycled, and that can mean only one thing: I never learn. (See, even this realization is old. I knew I never learn, and would never learn years ago!)
It seems like all I've been doing, am doing (and will be doing), is just circling, and landing doesn't appear to feature anywhere in my flight plans.
So I'm circling, and circling ... still circling, like a pilot unable to land because of unfavorable conditions - such as a lack of visibility, for instance.
The trouble with this constant circling is that, unless you have an enchanted fuel tank that will never empty or is self-replenishing, you're gonna run out of fuel sooner or later; and if you don't land sooner than later, you'll be heading straight for an uncomfortable nose-dive into somewhere (or something) unpleasant. (At that point, you'll find your life-jacket has a hole and will thus be unable to inflate, and your parachute will not open.)
I want to land - hell, I desperately want to land. But I just can't see the damn runway for all the blinking lights. I just cannot see it. It's obscured by a fog or a smog or something. I know, instinctively, that it is there, but I cannot pinpoint where exactly it is.
It's a bit like the TOT (tip of the tongue) - or the 'bathtub' (Jean Aitchison, 1994) - effect: you have a vague (or even a somewhat definite) idea of the sound or 'shape' of the word; you're likely to know the beginning (the 'head') and ending (the 'feet') of the word, and the number of syllables it has; it's just the middle bit(s) - the bit(s) concealed by the bathtub - that you're having problems with.
With this phenomenon (unless you have some form of aphasia or brain damage), the word on the tip of your tongue will eventually come to you. For me, however, I don't see the head or the feet sticking out of the damn bathtub; all I see is the fucking tub. And what I'm not seeing is not at all coming to me.
Every time I flip through the pages that were once written by the girl I used to be, I sense a hidden thread running through all my past and present experiences to my future ones; they're all linked like one huge-ass, hopeless entangled web no self-respecting spider would lay claim to - not even a blind spider without a single molecule of taste.
And I'll prolly go blind trying to untangle it all, but - what the fuck does it matter anyway? - with no foresight and no hindsight, and being impossibly myopic, I'm already blind.
Nevertheless, if I want to stop the cycle(s), stop circling, I'll have to see that thread, the correlation. It's the same thing with karmic cycles (which I believe in): if you didn't learn the lesson your soul was meant to learn - or untangle your karmic knot - in this karmic cycle, you'd be doomed to go through karmic cycle after karmic cycle until you finally do.
At the rate I'm going, I think I'll eligible for the platinum frequent flyer card - thank you for choosing Kismet Travels; Kismet Travels: for the Travel of your Lifetimes.
And with my luck, I'd prolly be scheduled for emergency crash-landing after emergency crash-landing too.
On the bright side (not that I can see it), being blind means I won't be able to see the pants-shating horrors of the hard and unwelcoming ground hurtling towards me at a bowel-loosening velocity when I suddenly run out of fuel and start spiraling to my impending Doom (I won't be able to see my fuel meter either, obviously) ...
Hell, I won't be able to even see my own damned Doom.
(00:37 SGT)
posted by s at 05:37
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