The Little Men with Bad Breath

So it has occurred to me in my Aprodine state of mind that I am once again off track. The ECF mentioned here was the trigger. And only now am I realizing the tailspin it sent me into.

The past few days, the entry way to my house has smelled like bad breath. How does a part of a house with no furniture or fabric have such a distinct smell, especially one so bad? Are there little men with halitosis standing there breathing when no one is home and moment I come to the door they scamper away?

The clicking (or ticking I suppose is the correct term) of this clock behind me is highly irritating. Or it would be if this new antihistamine I was on did not make me so placid. I never understood the appeal of clocks that tick. Is it one of those sounds people find comforting because it reminds them of their childhood? It does not remind me of my childhood. My grandma actually gave each of her three kids, my dad and his two older sisters, identical gold analogue clocks, and my dad either hid his or threw it away because he hated the ticking so much. He also hated his mother, but thats another story. Maybe my dislike of the noise is genetic. My mom hates ticking and dripping noises too. It's a good thing I am on aprodine.

So I have never read Catcher in the Rye. I know, I know, it's like cardinal sin numero uno for any literary fanatic/writer. But that's not even why I have decided to read it. I am reading it (and I am on chapter 7) because the ending has already been ruined for me. Donald Miller ruined it for me. I actually began reading his book "A Million Miles in a Thousand Years" so he could tell me how to live a more exciting life, and there in the first chapter he tells me Holden Caulfield is sitting there telling his story to some therapist in a mental institution. (Sorry if you have never read the book and I just ruined it for you. But now you know how I feel. And really, I would blame Don.) So after having the ending ruined for me, I figured that this is a book everyone and their mother has read, and that there are probably tons of literary allusions made to this book that I have been completely missing over the course of my literate life. And I decided I should fix that. So now I am on chapter 7. And its weird because now that I am reading it, I find myself thinking in the stilted, repetitive way he talks. It is very strange. I don't read as much as I should, but when I do I think I become very involved. It happens when I watch movies too. I am overly empathetic and too easily influenced by my surroundings.

Which brings me back to the beginning of this, when I first sat down to start writing. I have no personal goals. The minute I began to, the ECF occurred and only now am I beginning to resurface. (The ECF served as a catalyst for much deeper problems as well, as Small Things almost certainly always lead to Bigger Things.) I think I need to reconnect with myself. That sounds so meditative and zen. And is actually one of those gross sentences that makes you gag when other people say it, except for the fact that I mean it.

I hate being alone. I hate it hate it hate it. But when I am not alone, even my inner psyche is distracted. I just get off track. And then I find myself doing meaningless things and hating myself for it. The downward spiral is all very interesting really.

As always there is more to say, but I am sure the tone of the rest of my blogs from now on will be all about how I want to reinvent myself, so that should be fun.

Actually...yes, it will be fun. I can do this.