Not going to happen    2009-10-27 12:59:42 ET
In a shiny universe with bunnies and unicorns sits a house I bought ready enough to move into by this weekend.

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 the point    2009-10-26 05:42:04 ET
I sat knitting.
I am often interrupted while knitting to tell what I am making and why. Last night's project is a strap for my steampunk style safety goggles I have made to wear as I am working on my house.

He says " a strap? you could go buy one for like two bucks."
-But then I wouldn't have made it
"but isn't it faster just to buy it?"
-you are missing the point.
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 resaults of a book store visit    2009-10-25 06:13:01 ET
I am tired of excuses. no matter legitimate or simple masks of fear they are how I get through the day. If you only knew everything I want to be and don't.

I read a bit of New seeds of Contemplation by Thomas Merton yesterday and I am still working out the little chapter I read. He spoke of contemplation being almost a small death. a moment to disavow everything you think you know only to know more and to know it beyond words and images. I would like to think I am contemplative. But in truth I am a day dreamer. I conjure stories and what if's that represent how I would like the the world and myself to look. But Day dreams are excuses. tiny bits of pitiful escapism in order to elude responsibility for the world about me. I'd like to say it is analyzing how I would react in such a situation arose, but that is an excuse too. Those day dreams keep me from actually doing what I imagine myself do. I imagine success at what I try and so fear of failure keeps me from branching out into the physical world.
And the daydreams isolate me. I spend so much of my energy stuck in my own trap of a made up world that I am not present in the real one.

So I have been inspired. to train myself to be contemplative.What I read in Merton's chapter on what contemplation is stated nothing about daydreams. But As I thought about how I think, I realize that I do not want to waste time on the daydreams. To stay and be apart of where I am, not hidding. Not escaping.

Oh, and I forgot how much I liked jules verne's 20,000 leagues under the sea.
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