I woke up this morning with "Wet and Rusting" by Menomena tickling my synapses. It seems as though my best thinking on any given day is usually when I'm walking to the bus stop. Some people have toothbrush moments, others have their entire mornings. Mine usually is best done when I'm traveling, probably because my body feels a natural urge to follow my line of thought, to leave each thought behind me and have enough space to escape to if necessary. My main comfort these days lie in motion -- whether it be the motion of moving great distances, or simply the motion of my muscles.
Today I need a break from my 365 project, mainly because of a need to simply sit back and enjoy music. Maybe it's a bit early to already be quiting on the project, I am definitely wary of failing to follow through on this project. But at the same time it's hard to understand what's so good about an album when you can't enjoy music.
Does anyone else feel so acutely a person's absence by the space they leave behind? Or fear the space that they don't occupy anymore? I still feel a sting in the center of me when I consider that the people who matter most to me once never loved me at all. It's strange that you can be born loving someone, like your family, only to realize that for whatever expanse of time, you didn't exist at all to them. That perhaps they could choose not to love you at all, or that maybe you are simply an add-on, a superfluous appendage to their life.
Is it silly to be jealous of the people who fill the space I should occupy?