Crepuscular

Sunday afternoons - would it be they were relaxing and not stressful. After all these years, I still can't shake the feeling that homework hasn't been completed and that Monday will be a day of reckoning. 

I walked to the public square yesterday and looked into peoples' apartments as I passed by - not  in a voyeuristic manner - but when they had left their curtains or blinds open. I wanted to see how other people managed their Sundays, and also because we all know that the other person is always more secure, happier and generally more content than you are, or ever will be. My idea was that I would be able to emulate their behaviour - fake it until it becomes real being the operative idea - to get rid of the late Sunday afternoon feeling (which to me is kind of like an end of the world feeling - particularly at this time of the year when the twilight is soft, gentle, particularly crepuscular, like the sun is dying). So there you go. I walked, I peeked and took notes.

It appears that to be happy and content like other people, I shall have to watch television, lean out of windows and smoke cigarettes, tap away at Mac Airbooks, or  lounge on a couch with a glazed look on your face (probably from a surfeit of watching t.v., smoking and gazing at computer screens).
If this is the case, I'm doomed to forever be anxious and have acid stomachs on Sunday afternoons. 

Mind you, I could have gone to watch a movie set in 1684 about a bunch of civil war (UK) soldiers who wander into a field and eat mushrooms what make you hallucinate, and maybe I should. I think though this would have made me feel unsettled - yes, that's the word I'm looking for - Unsettled.

I am unsettled because I really have to make ninja balls now. I really do. Nano-ninjas. And the first thing to do is to have a meeting - what else do you do when your'e feeling unsettled, but organize a meeting and pretend (talk about faking it until it becomes true) that your'e doing something.

It's that or make a list, I suppose. 

Really wish I could just clear my mind and settle my stomach though.

Cliches - I was thinking about cliches the other day and wondering how true they were, but I can't remember a damn about what the riff was. It was brilliant and profound, however, as all forgotten riffs and ideas are. So maybe I'll write down some cliches and see what pops up, see what fantastic new ideas I get.

Time heals all wounds
It'll be alright on the day
Fake it till it's true
Blood will out
Opportunity doesn't knock twice (or in KB's words, pounce)
Time will tell

Nope, no new ideas nor riffs so I'll drop this now. Can't think of any other cliches either. My mind is wandering and I'm not sure where it's wandering too, but it's certainly not productive fields. Cosmic wishing now - that's a different story. Whether what you wish for actually happens because you articulated the desire and sent it out to the cosmos, or because the idea becomes entrenched in your mind once articulated, and you subconsciously work towards the idea is of no consequence to me. If it works, it works - I had a letter two days ago which reminded me that a few things I wished for about a year ago actually happened - not quite in exact terms, in general. I suppose that it's difficult to be precise in your wishing, or maybe it means that wishing is just generally diffused so it's somewhat pleiotropic. Of course, must balance all this with the concept that when the gods want to punish you, they grant you your wishes. So what am I to think now? To wish or not to wish...that is the question.

I think I'll take up some mediation and empty the mind - oh the waste, all these years of education and training only to come to the conclusion that one must empty one's mind. 

But there is some truth in this - there is so much information that one is exposed to on a daily basis. If you were to pay attention to everything, then you'd go insane. Filter what comes in, or to use another cliche, let the cream rise to the top, then skim it off. No different really then letting things stew, and being patient.

"What does patient mean?", VV asked ML (6 years old at the time), "It means WAIT!", ML answered with all the wisdom and forthrightness of the young.

So in the end, no solutions for crepuscular Sunday afternoons/evenings, but to wait. Time will tell after all. 

One last thing - there is no merit in marking half-centuries (unless you're Ian Botham) for really, one wrong slip of the gears could put me under the wheels of a bus, one slip of the needle could give me an overdose of a toxic drug, or simply, a fall on wet floors (despite all the mandated safety modules on falls I've taken) could wipe me out. 

So there I am. I'm not getting a Mac Airbook, nor a telly, nor will I take up smoking, nor will I sit on a couch with a glazed over face like a Tim Hortons doughnut...oh there's an idea...Maybe the answer is to have doughnuts.