Shit
I've been trying very hard to think of something interesting or deep (like the ocean) to write about lately and I can't really come up with anything. I have just about pinpointed the problem, or so it seems. My head has been a sort of vacuum as of late, and there haven't been any real concrete thoughts inside my head all day. It is acting as a sort of a rest from myself, that is for sure, and it allows me to free up space from the thought juggling and concentrate on more important matters like getting all gold medals on the slope challenges in Amped 3, which is a genuinely enjoyable game if I don't say so myself. I am pretty sure it is this orbital sickness that has been hovering over my head for a few days now. The problem is I am not ok and I am not sick. It is some sort of surreal period of limbo in which this sickness is cruelly waiting above to strike, as if savoring every moment of my confusion and frustration. In addition it is causing this absence of thought and reflection like some bizarre, crackling high altitude electrical storm.
But now I am writing now, so I must be doing some sort of thinking.
I admit to sometimes thinking in writing when I drift off into myself, and it is then that I see my brighter moments being put down in a sort of floating written account, and then I am dismayed when the entire paragraph that I had etched into my mind fades away into the darkness, never to be seen again. I remind myself that paper is slightly more permanent than short term memory. It is then that I wish I carried with me a pad of paper that I could use to write down my thoughts that would make good blog material. But of course I am usually doing something active at the moment, something that would become dangerous if it was mixed with another involving activity, something such as driving or standing in the shower. Colliding masses and wet paper, respectively.
I leave the living room to wind down for the night, and as I turn off lights I reflect on the lights themselves. The bulbs flicker out and darkness engulfs the room. The heat from the rods dissipates into the atmosphere and the bulb becomes cool once again. The heat and light fade in my wake. I can't help but wonder...is the cold and darkness the resting state of space and matter in this universe? It must be, since without the sun (which is a source of heat and energy and was created to exist apart from nothingness) the universe would be a cold and dark place. And you don't need energy to create the cold and darkness, that is if you are not fighting against a heated environment of course. Pointless really. But it provides some mental stimulation nonetheless. Now what is not exactly pointless is the nature of our relationship with heat and the light. Why do we need heat to maintain our body and light to see? The answer could be
biological/evolutionary and it is, but what about past the physical history of things? What about the bigger picture? Could this suggest a ticking clock structure? The end of heat and light is the end of life? But some life can function without. Can it? Or does it take even miniscule amounts into consideration? Goddamit.
Well for the most part I have not been thinking too deeply or clearly, and I have been enjoying a somewhat decent absence of desperation.
-The Piece.
