I don’t know if I should trust Ralph Waldo Emerson. I mean,to the best of my knowledge he’s never stuck me with the bar tab or done anything else to make me doubt his sincerity.
I am consistent. If nothing else, I can maintain a status quo. I’m trying to decide if I should buck the system and try to take my practice tests with what will probably be a migraine in a ll of its nausea inducing, light wincing glory. Right now, it’s just a tiny throb over my temple and nose. (World’s worst fetish erotica.)
I’ve been writing a lot, not just out here on the blogosphere, but also in my journal and some novella developing that is giving me fits because I am second guessing myself. Hmm, wonder why I would be doing that? Aggressive codependency aside, there’s a lot going on that I have been either repressing or deflecting or otherwise beating into submission with flash rhetoric.
BBB brought me some pages of something I wrote when I was sixteen. I have only leafed through it because I fully acknowledge that I was very naive and socially immature and to be honest I don’t need the tsuris. (That’s not a typo. Look it up and learn a thing or two.) I couldn’t help but notice that my writing style is exactly the same. Wandering and tangential with little bits of sarcastic explanation. I also included a rather thorough cast list of which actual person inspired which character. I guess I thought the veil was so thin, I might as well not bother.
I am amazed that I am still trying to alter reality by creating a world that I could control and manipulate. I still refer to people in code, not necessarily to avoid my embarrassment. There is not a single thing I have said that is not my perception of the truth. (You see how I can create my own loophole?)
So I am consistent in style and not a little in fact.( I love the smell of rhetoric in the morning.) It’s all part of the thing I’m trying to figure out and piece together.
I should probably start with the corners.