Love Sculpture, Sabre Dance

It's incredible that such a cliché around change coming from within, rings true at this point in my life. Maybe we are predictable no matter how intricate we might seem to be to ourselves. Things that you might have been running away seem like part of a movie, but not yours, not siree! Not me! Claimed your conscious being.

But then you notice little patterns, certain things your mind told yourself to perpetrate your ego's cosmovision. When I was younger, I remember watching movies where some tormented character, admitted to him or herself: "I've been lying you, to everyone... even myself!" I thought that was so hilarious... How could you lie to yourself? What was the point?!!

I guess one of the things about growing older is that you come to understand how, for better or worse, might have come to act in certain situations where nothing was ever simple. In shades of grey, your life becomes a sculpture that can be perceived from many angles. You know or well, remember how, a certain part of you came to be chiseled that way. The precise angle of the tool that carved your adolescence up, as scattered pieces of your infancy were smashed away and fell to the ground.

Today I'm frustrated with emotional time versus rational time. Possibility of change holds on to the first one with such a force, that it doesn't necessarily run parallel with the second one. And that is terribly annoying. I'm waiting, on a platform, but there seems to be a delay...