Monday, 6 July 2009

The Psychology of Dream Analysis

Sitting, gazing unbrokenly out of my window at the sun rise, making up words, watching Amelie, it seems the perfect time to reflect on life and force out a blog. But i've found that I definitely need to have something resolved for myself through my writing here, and that I cant just sit and type whenever, and that I really never have anything trully significant to say. Sitting here thinking about how i'm strangely lacking that urge to blog inspired me to blog about how I really have nothing to blog about. So i'm sure you're pleased you tuned in. I dont seem to have a million things shooting around my head [apart from the French of the film, making it incredibly hard to concentrate] that I need to make sense of, nor do I feel I need to list the reasons from today why i'm upset or unfortunate or so wonderfully deep and insightful you'll wish you knew the real me. There's really not a lot to learn tonight. There's really not a lot for me to say. Maybe it's the time of day. I feel so undisturbed and unspoilt. Maybe that's it completely - my ongoing fisticuffs with a life I just cant settle into or be happy with only rejuvenates when I try to make a go of it. Whereas now i'm just happily sitting, gazing, and not even thinking. I dont even regret this blog, as I thought I might when I jumped on to post it earlier, fearing it would just be a "here's a blog for no reason" kind of jam. Just feels like i'm sort of alright at the moment with some stuff, something I almost never say due to my ridiculous obsession with what could be called karma. I just see it as everything eventually evening out. Tending to never create or pursue a situation where life could tip the other way for me with too much of a good thing, i've comfortably accepted that as my position here. Good things find me, and you better believe I hold on to them with both hands, but not as many as i'd perhaps like to entertain. Risks. Risk taking is the key.

I wont read back but I imagine it makes very little sense, and doesnt even flow from thought to thought. Pretty sure my ending point was a respectful [yet failing] attempt to give this entry some purpose and significance. Think i'm just dancing around the idea of being happy, and being able to own that. It's pretty ridiculous really. Maybe, however, excluding those last few sentiments, this has meant something to someone. And most importantly, i'm rather happy I decided to do this in the end, meaning it must have done something for me.
And that's a roundabout way of saying I write with a smile on my face.

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