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Jul. 31st, 2012 10:56 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
shadowkatDon't mind me, feel like writing. Do you ever just feel like writing? In the early 1990s before the internet, I used to write long letters not about what I was doing, such things always bored me, but about what I'd read or thought or felt. Sometimes the weather, which can be boring or interesting depending on the turn of phrase.
Should be sleeping. Not a very good sleeper, I'm afraid. Never been much good at sleeping. Runs in the family. My Granny used watch the Jack Paar Show, or so the Momster tells me. She'd stay up past midnight every night. And my mother was known to scrub her kitchen floors at midnight while watching Night Gallery or some horror flick, most likely because that was the only thing on. My brother would take meandering walks at night...without my parents knowledge. I think he climbed out his window, can't remember. While I'd read books under the covers with a flashlight or just shut the door and read until the wee hours of morning. Sleep doesn't come easily to those with busy brains.
Tonight I find myself wondering about choices. Never knowing if I've made the right ones.
So many times the wrong ones...like an errant post on the internet that sails off like a bumblebee that you can't call back again. I'd say hummingbird or butterfly, but often as not it stings. But this is nothing, really. There are bigger choices...that have harder results. You ever wonder where you'd be today if you chose to go left instead of straight on? Or chose not to move? Or not walk across that particular street? A tiny choice can often lead to...well anything. And while I'd like to say that we are in control of our choices, I'm not sure that is entirely true. Emotional and physical states play a role.
Like tonight, what I ate for some reason or other is not agreeing with me. I feel odd and a bit queasy and thoughtful. Desolate. With a headache. Dulled. All these factors contribute to what I choose to write. How clearly I think while writing.
Not to jump tracks...but been thinking about written communication lately too. And how fragile it is or difficult, perhaps difficult is a better word? Today, once again, I thought, no one is listening to each other. No one is reading. What's the point in writing an email, if the person on the other end refuses to comprehend what you wrote?
Or even a post on the internet for that matter? It's like people see what they want to see, read what they want to read, and skip over everything else. This weird fast scan reading...where you skip over words, thinking they are minor, and as a result miss the meaning. Do you read the full post? Or just segments? It's important. If you skip the first paragraph of a post that says : I'm in cranky mood today, things have not been going well. And just read the last bit of the post that interested you - then decide to write a nasty response. Resulting in turn from the original writer reacting in fury. Well, think how easily this could have been avoided if you paid attention to that first sentence - "cranky mood".
They teach speed reading in schools. I wonder sometimes if they still teach reading comprehension?
Should be sleeping. Not a very good sleeper, I'm afraid. Never been much good at sleeping. Runs in the family. My Granny used watch the Jack Paar Show, or so the Momster tells me. She'd stay up past midnight every night. And my mother was known to scrub her kitchen floors at midnight while watching Night Gallery or some horror flick, most likely because that was the only thing on. My brother would take meandering walks at night...without my parents knowledge. I think he climbed out his window, can't remember. While I'd read books under the covers with a flashlight or just shut the door and read until the wee hours of morning. Sleep doesn't come easily to those with busy brains.
Tonight I find myself wondering about choices. Never knowing if I've made the right ones.
So many times the wrong ones...like an errant post on the internet that sails off like a bumblebee that you can't call back again. I'd say hummingbird or butterfly, but often as not it stings. But this is nothing, really. There are bigger choices...that have harder results. You ever wonder where you'd be today if you chose to go left instead of straight on? Or chose not to move? Or not walk across that particular street? A tiny choice can often lead to...well anything. And while I'd like to say that we are in control of our choices, I'm not sure that is entirely true. Emotional and physical states play a role.
Like tonight, what I ate for some reason or other is not agreeing with me. I feel odd and a bit queasy and thoughtful. Desolate. With a headache. Dulled. All these factors contribute to what I choose to write. How clearly I think while writing.
Not to jump tracks...but been thinking about written communication lately too. And how fragile it is or difficult, perhaps difficult is a better word? Today, once again, I thought, no one is listening to each other. No one is reading. What's the point in writing an email, if the person on the other end refuses to comprehend what you wrote?
Or even a post on the internet for that matter? It's like people see what they want to see, read what they want to read, and skip over everything else. This weird fast scan reading...where you skip over words, thinking they are minor, and as a result miss the meaning. Do you read the full post? Or just segments? It's important. If you skip the first paragraph of a post that says : I'm in cranky mood today, things have not been going well. And just read the last bit of the post that interested you - then decide to write a nasty response. Resulting in turn from the original writer reacting in fury. Well, think how easily this could have been avoided if you paid attention to that first sentence - "cranky mood".
They teach speed reading in schools. I wonder sometimes if they still teach reading comprehension?
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Date: 2012-08-01 03:04 am (UTC)I keep thinking "I should post about that" and then more busy happens and I don't. I dream of the day when I catch up.