I was watching mustard seeds skip across the hot oil and thinking. I spend so much time on thinking. Creating worlds, dreaming up escape scenarios to impossible situations, planning recipes and thinking up responses to questions I’ll never be asked.
But as each seed hopped briefly into the air I began to catalog the time spent on my thoughts. If laid my thoughts out, I imagine I could not catch them again. There is always more that one, different lines of thinking popping like those seeds, painted like a word cloud.
I am layering SQL creates like a cake as I take auto claims, while I think about what I need to plan for school, where to find the money due by September, by Wednesday, and any moment I’ll have update, change, clean.
Crap, when is that last time I cleaned the bathroom?
Despite the clutter I am a procedural person. I have steps, an order to things, an evolving list of commands that I follow to get those things done. It makes me seem to crawl, like a slow motion fire tornado.
But as the seeds popped I realize fear had crept upon me again, fear of what others might think about what I think.
And I realize I am alone with my thoughts. Again. Reading this won’t change that. No one can me leave alone more.
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