Re-cycling

I cooked. Asparagus. It's almost like I am actually a grown-up. Except for the childish pettiness I constantly engage in. But in the recent past, I have attempted to get as far away from my emotions as possible, and as a result, I have been mostly content. They are impossible to squelch completely, so when they do override everything else, they come on so strong it is almost like being run over by a truck. So I must regroup and make another attack against them so I can see the world in the appropriate light again. Sometimes it works. Sometimes it doesn't.

I keep running through things that comprise the most banal sections of my life, of the world I live in. Groceries. Phone calls. Lunch. Work schedules. Books. Moving in. Moving out. cooking. Driving. Getting gas. Making appointments. Paying bills. Cleaning up. Laundry. E-mails. Shopping. Showering. Washing my hair. Taking vitamins. Taking out the trash. Watering the herbs. Wine. Getting the mail. Locking the door.

A neverending list of things I do every day to keep the deeper thoughts at bay. Take care of what's on top. The other stuff is too muddled to organize anyway. If I let it be, perhaps it will settle itself, like a riverbed disturbed by the wading feet of a fisherman. Lay the pieces in a new configuration, with new meaning, new possibilities. The material stays the same, but holds infinite possibilites of design for the future inside me.

Wash the dishes. Rewind the videotape. Recycle.