||[Jan. 13th, 2004|07:03 pm]
|||||Cat Stevens--Teaser and the Firecat||]|
Lately I've paid so much attention to my books that I've forgotten nearly everything else about my life. It's been nice yet kind of annoying, all at the same time. But it keeps my mind off the fact that anger, apparently directed at nothing, keeps coming at me out of nowhere. I guess it's healthy to finally get all these contained feelings out, but it's upsetting nevertheless. I have a good life, so why am I so angry? Am I angry at the world, other people, or myself? And why? Why do I continue to feel so much anger that is accompanied by absolutely no thoughts at all? Thoughts are what I need right now, I need to think about my life at this point. I need to think about the world and what's happening to it, and the future, and all this other stuff. I need to write my book.
But I'm not--I'm sitting here writing yet another entry. And reading, always reading. I feel like I'm wasting my life, just as I do during all vacations up to this point.
But the fact is that I am sorting things out without even thinking about them. What I need more than anything is time, time to think about these things, and to make choices. Which I am, I guess. And the fact remains that I'm happier than I have been in a very, very long time.
I've been trying to comment more, and have had more of an idea as to what to say. Which is definitely a good thing.
I was listening to this radio station in the waiting room near my therapist's office, and it's so completely...*normal*....that I feel like I'm going to explode every time I go into there. It's just that everyone sounds so happy, yet very falsely so, and it bothers the heck out of me. Being happy is wonderful, but acting happy makes it seem like a person is hiding something, like it's a shame to be any other way. Which it's not, in my opinion.
But anyway, I hope all of you are doing well. I wish you all a good day.