Sitting again, observing the world around me. So many people with stories, each has something interesting to say, each person is important, and, deep down, in places I don’t get to because I never talk to any of them, each person has a uniqueness about them that brings something new and unexpected to the world.

Ah, the rereading of my own writing. I’m not sure if there’s anything I enjoy more than that exercise, especially when properly caffeinated, a strong focus on the material, and my unadulterated optimism. Did I talk about my newfound optimism yet? I’m working on it. It’s a NEQID-thing, a way to make me better. Why look at the world as all bad when it’s inherently good? It wants to be good, and I’m here to make it so. And, yes, that was a Picard reference. I’m nothing if not up on 90s-pop references, the popular ones, that is. I’ve never been very good at the cryptic literary ones. It probably has something to do with my inability to remember interesting and important things. It’s useless culture that sticks in my gut for all time.

I continue to type and say—I won’t use the n-word today. I’m too positive to worry about voids, emptiness, abysses, cavities, hollowness, holes, and any other word that my thesaurus missed but that’s applicable in this non-n-word posting. I’m waiting for stuff to happen to me. I spend too much time waiting and not enough time actuating. Hehe. I sound like a transformer with that word. To actuate, “To put into action or motion; to move or incite to action; to influence actively; to move as motives do; more commonly used of persons.” Very useful, this interweb thing is. So there it is. More words. Caffeine-induced words that lead everywhere. There’s the positive angle. I would have said the n-o version of the where, but I resisted. All part of my grand plan to make something of myself. Here’s to being something instead of someone.

I need to be rescued from distraction.

The world waits for me. It’s all there, at my proverbial fingertips. I can access information instantaneously. I know everything that goes on in the world, well, at least the important stuff, the stuff that gets filtered as important and sent on its way through the social networks that end up at my tender fingertips. They get tired after a while, my fingertips, that is. Even the skin and fat padding can’t protect the nerves from bone forever. After a time, they press into them and it hurts to type, it hurts to sit in an awkward position trying to find it. That awkward is a funny word, it’s awfully, well, awkward to spell.

Distraction sets in. I power up the aforementioned web thingy and point to a page and hope for updates. There are always updates, either new comments or new sites for me to visit. I hope it’ll tickle my concentration long enough to send pleasure impulses to my brain to get off whatever uncomfortable thought moment I was involved in. There’s nothing here, you realize. Who’s the character? What’s the conflict? Why do I find either of those things interesting in any manner? Why should I care in anyway?

Crazy is as crazy does, and I’m one crazy cursing carousing critter. Oh, the cleverness, does it know any bound? I doubt it. It’s out there, thinking, always planning the next way to put a smile on my pathetically consternated face. Hunched backs and revered thoughts. Poetry written in one-word verses. Why spend more?

I peck for more distractions and keep finding them. They’re unsatisfying. I don’t know what I hope to find, but it must be more than this. I live inside my head lately. I need to get out of it, to get into other people’s heads, other people’s stories. That was what I do with my short stories (or try to do, at least). But now I find myself nowhere near that. I’m spinning my wheels and leaving muddy tracks across the rug. Someone save me, please!

It’s been ten minutes. Maybe things have changed. Let me go check. Isn’t ADD wonderful? Of course, it’s only wonderful because I’m not practiced in any other art. I need to practice. I need to pretend I have some other say.