Landslide

It appears my inspiration to blog has formed a bittersweet union with my inability to sleep. As a creature of habit with an emphasis on addiction, I'm sensing a certain permanence in this new alliance, and I am unsure whether to be worried or relieved. Truthfully (and fortunately), the urge to blog has never been the cause for sleeplessness: more of an answer to it. The problem is as such- of late, I only write when I blog, and I only blog when I can’t get the rest my body craves so. Excited as I am about the future of my writing career/health? Boy I hope so. Good thing I’ve always been slightly annoyed by excitement.
Lying in my bed tonight, happily enjoying the soft caress of a 62 degree breeze from Stu’s greatest physical contribution to my life, I found that the world of unconscious adventure that I have been enjoying so thoroughly these past few weeks was inexplicably out of reach. Hidden away somewhere deep below my mattress, my mind’s outstretched arms failed to grasp the ethereal stuff of dream firmly enough, and thus I lay on the cusp of unwanted awareness until a glimmer of something in the back of mind attracted my wandering attention. Preemptively forfeiting the hope that I could ever convey what the inside of my mind looks like, (it took me long enough just to learn how to navigate it), I’ll suffice to say that somewhere in the quicksilver flashes projected onto the dark screens of my closed eyelids I came face to face with…me. A nearly subjective glimpse at my own reflection, smiling crookedly back at me from wind, water, and snow covered hills.
Maybe I needed a break after all the pondering I had been doing what now seems like ages ago. It is suspicious that my recent contentment has so perfectly coincided with my lack of ink and font. Not that there is anything wrong with contentment. I just need to be careful to draw the line before apathy. With that said, I think I caught myself with plenty of time to spare. And looking around now, I’ve been thoroughly enjoying a favorite Josh Bassian pastime- introspection. From a sociological perspective, now that I’ve emerged from the fiery chaos of creation and begun to settle in a more solid form, the activity that has occupied so much of my time has lost its temporary sympathetic prefix. I know that was obscure, but it was just too fun to write. And though explaining it will only detract from it, I feel bad. Sympathetic introspection is where the observer places him/herself in another’s position so as to better understand said person’s behavior. During the storm of a few weeks past, I was so successfully shaken from my identity that I could actually put myself in my own shoes (but I still couldn’t walk a mile. Damn you Panda Express). Now that I am once again at the helm, this captain is enjoying his reunion with the wheel. It seems that I have much to explore. Farewell, landlubbers.