Weird day

Today was a weird day. I woke up at like 10, ate some food, went back to bed, slept until about noon…did something? then slept again lol until about 1. I had really interesting dreams but I’m not sure what they were about…I felt like I could tell stories though…or something. I used to want to be a writer and sometimes I wake up and am in that mindset again “I can write. I know what at least I find interesting” and I feel like I’m outside of time or something. Like I’m part of something bigger. But then the realities of learning how to write come to mind and I remember my days at the library learning grammer and writing techniques and feeling like I was imploding. And I settled back into the place I’m out now which is that I have stories in my head, I like hearing other peoples, and I like reading. And that is probably the extent of it. Except of course writing in a journal which I’ll always do.

I was weridly okay with sleeping until noon, I normally feel like crap when I let myself do that but today I felt like letting myself get away with anything. I have too many directions I want to go right now and taking the day off meant something. (Normally I go to the library or a coffee shop every day and work on either music theory, finances, or sustainability for an hour) But today I didn’t do that.

I was agitated too though. My head was spinning all god damn day. Like my thoughts were greased with oil and wouldn’t congeal with each other.

I intended on writing more but I think I’m satisfied with that.

Should I sell all my belongings and live in a van? Go from National Forest, to a WWOOF (World Wide Organization of Organic Farmers, you work on thier farm, you learn about organic farming, and they let you either stay at their house or in my case have a place to park my imaginary van) farm, attend protests across the country, sleep under the stars, read a lot, maybe write again(?), not have bills, get sweaty all the time, do seasonal work (apparently theres a beet harvest that hires nomads every year and lets them camp on site), but also, be alone, not be sure where I’m going to park my imaginary van all the time, probably stay single the whole time because lets face it who wants to date a guy that lives in a van (actually I think there is a romantic appeal to that but you know)…not sure. Kinda want to.

I’m reading Naseau by Sartre right now and I feel like I want to just listen to people. And I’m interested. In their whole person, the things they aren’t saying, the reasons they might be saying what they are saying…I want an intimate exploration of another persons consciousness. And I want to offer that to other people too. But then I went in the garage to smoke a cigarette and my room mates were out there and our friend Joe was over, and they are all really funny, but we don’t have that kind of relationship. And I was brought up into their good spirits. I resisted it at first because I know I can’t really keep up. My comments fall flat compared to their good humour. But I’ve learned that the only way to survive those interactions is to not try to be anything else and just let their good time bring me up, even if I’m not totally joining in.

Why floss every night? I started flossing every other night and there’s way more stuff to get out. I think that applies to everything.