Throttle.

Staying on message is an important thing when writing when others are going to read. (Or, if you feel like giving yourself a good context for a situation, if you’re going to reread later.) I noticed ages ago that I don’t really read entries, I feel them.

I felt like a zombie in my night class. Kind of meh. Of course, if I focused on that, that would imply that I’m in a bad mood. Eh. Not really bad, not really good.

Brain’s kind of a muddle. Reflected on where I was three years ago. Three years ago, I would have taken that off-thought of how I don’t make friends in the classroom and don’t know how to interact in a group setting, and ranted. I know better now – how to not enter the conversation. With yourself, it’s just thought control. Stop feeding yourself negative impulses. With others, it’s just not bothering with their bullshit and drama. (I never did write that entry on ‘not entering the conversation.’)

Had some chest pains today. Fittingly right at the end of a lecture where we were talking about how the heart works. I’ve had them on/off for years, so half the time, I don’t really remember them at the end of the day. It’s my impression most people get them.

I seem to be running scenarios in my mind where the end result is me screaming at the top of my lunges. I mean, lungs. Screaming during lunges = bad. Ahem. I haven’t had a good scream in well over a year. Which makes me think about my overall emotional landscape. I haven’t felt… I don’t know how to describe it. Empowered? Not in control, that’s not what I mean. Perceptive. Feeling able to perceive and pick up on things. Able to cause things to happen. Autoabled. Ha ha. A word I invented. To be able to do things yourself. Or to have yourself be able.

I have to remind myself of rock bottom a little more frequently than I’d like, to keep moving forward. I don’t spaz out like I used to, thankfully. I throttle better. I don’t really know if anybody would even know about it. It’s pretty much an internal thing. Eliminating problems before they start. I know I’m not perfect, I know we all have off-days, and I know I just need to figure out what works for me. Whatever works may change from one day to the next.

I used to write these dramatic inspiring things, in the hopes that I could write The One Speech that maybe, just maybe, I could go back and reread for effect. Never did happen. What we need to be told depends on what we’re going through. And I like to think I’m dealing better without putting on my pretentious hat.

The Y has a punching bag. I should utilize it as a warm-up tomorrow. I don’t quite know where it’s coming from, but I have some frustration to let off. In any event, I sleep now.