Jeudi, octobre 8, 2009
I woke up this morning and thought to myself: “I have so much to do—I have this, that, the thing out East, and the thing out West, things uptown, downtown, and all around town.” The funny thing, though, is that I never get so far as to worry about anything specific, which is both good and bad—good, because at least I’m not actually worrying about all those things I’m worried that I’m worrying about! This is also why my worrying is bad; it has no object (other than itself, that is). So what I do then, to put it plain and simple, is worry about worrying. I’ll try to work on it. I also don’t like having TO DO SO MANY THINGS, day in, day out. Nowadays people will give you the stink eye if you tell ‘em you like relaxing at home with a book or movie. Well, maybe they won’t give you the stink eye if they’re of the polite sort. I don’t mind hanging out with friends; I love it! But I don’t know why people in NYC always want to meet at bars: they are WAY too loud (why the hell should I meet with someone inside of one of the many thousands of rooms in this city in which conditions have been perfectly constructed such that conversation inside them is all but impossible). Nowadays I can’t relax when I try to. I choose certain times of the day during which I plan to take a break from work and just sit around for a while. It’s not long after I’ve sat down, however, before I’m back on my feet, pacing back and forth, worrying about the different ways one can relax, whether the one I’ve chosen will actually provide repose, and finally I start fretting over the fact that I’m not relaxing yet, because there are so many choices and my indecision is detracting from my R&R time. I can understand without difficulty the irony of relaxation’s stressing me out, but I’m still too agitated to appreciate it.

I woke up this morning and thought to myself: “I have so much to do—I have this, that, the thing out East, and the thing out West, things uptown, downtown, and all around town.” The funny thing, though, is that I never get so far as to worry about anything specific, which is both good and bad—good, because at least I’m not actually worrying about all those things I’m worried that I’m worrying about! This is also why my worrying is bad; it has no object (other than itself, that is).

So what I do then, to put it plain and simple, is worry about worrying.

I’ll try to work on it.

I also don’t like having TO DO SO MANY THINGS, day in, day out. Nowadays people will give you the stink eye if you tell ‘em you like relaxing at home with a book or movie. Well, maybe they won’t give you the stink eye if they’re of the polite sort.

I don’t mind hanging out with friends; I love it!

But I don’t know why people in NYC always want to meet at bars: they are WAY too loud (why the hell should I meet with someone inside of one of the many thousands of rooms in this city in which conditions have been perfectly constructed such that conversation inside them is all but impossible).

Nowadays I can’t relax when I try to. I choose certain times of the day during which I plan to take a break from work and just sit around for a while. It’s not long after I’ve sat down, however, before I’m back on my feet, pacing back and forth, worrying about the different ways one can relax, whether the one I’ve chosen will actually provide repose, and finally I start fretting over the fact that I’m not relaxing yet, because there are so many choices and my indecision is detracting from my R&R time. I can understand without difficulty the irony of relaxation’s stressing me out, but I’m still too agitated to appreciate it.


Publié à 11:41 6 notes

Notes

  1. bmkk a publié ce billet