“The best way out is always through.” ~ Robert Frost
Most often the morning’s quiet is soothing and welcome, like a lull in a storm, or like a yawn snuck in unseen during a truly boring speech. This morning is not one of those mornings. I miss the feeling of peace. I know it will return some other day. Not today. That’s my point. I tried to believe that it was my reading of numerous articles about the situation in Ferguson, Missouri, but I can’t pin it on that. This is my thing. Mine alone. Edginess is something that is all too familiar to me. One tried and true source of edginess, for me, is the fact that I most often don’t speak up when the weight of unfairness is plunked down upon my unsuspecting head. For hours, even days, after stuffing ill feelings into a tidy corner of my mind, I hold internal conversations about the injustice. When people say one thing and then say or do the opposite the next day, taking their own inconsistency in stride, I wonder about their memory. Does it not work? Is it simply not used in practical matters? Nope. My take is usually that my faculties for perception are all fucked up. That’s good for at least ten hours of psychotherapy right there. Yes, I am thinking about a specific situation as I write this. What to do, what to do? Speak up or trash my inner faculties?
“Having their feelings make sense is how people get their kicks.” ~ Mark Vonnegut
I suppose consistency is my own business, whether I do it or not. Feeling guilty about feelings makes about as much sense as giving orders to a wooden post. Or so it seems. Yes, the past few days have felt surreal to me. It’s not passiveness that I feel toward these surreal feelings. Nor is it agitation. As much as I try to puzzle it out it remains a mystery of ginormous dimensions, some of them hiding in an alternate reality. Is there injustice in the situation that is nibbling ungraciously on my mind this morning? I reckon that the only way to know that is in retrospect. Meanwhile I will remain quiet about it. I’ve got a feeling that my speaking up would make things worse. Mum’s the word. My bad.
Peace out y’all. Goof gloriously,k?