Naomie Christensen: Erratic

Sunday, April 30, 2017


I need to get out of the house. Writing and drawing makes me feel like I am accomplishing something. It is purposeful and gives me something to preoccupy time.

My mind wanders. Finding myself being creative, thoughts meander about nothing and everything. I want things in life. Fiction is a preoccupation.

Though never enjoying uncomfortable questions. It happens. It has a grounding affect. Spending time on my own, there is no adversarial presence.

It is good to be creative. It is good to be purposeful. There is something missing.

Though uncomfortable, I will go to the nightclub. It is interesting. Music plays and people are around.

In the past, having anxiety in social situations, I don't remember isolation. It is weird and beginning to be a problem.

Once I moved. I posted a message for the gathering. It was without expectation. Even with the thought of a few people showing, it was more than what was planned. I already asked for people to be decrepit.

This time, I will be available for questions and everything else. It is difficult to not think of planned responses. I don't even know what anyone would ask.

I feel all bundled up in my mind. I wonder about my future. The future scares me.

People say diamonds are forever. I wonder if is all diamonds in the sand.

It is not a real diamond. The odd silicon and mineral mixture of sand catches the light of sun.

It throws scatters of glint across the beach. Much like the sun shines through a waves and the light reflects across the water, it is a reflection.

The thrill of diamonds. Reality reveals something more normal.

It is still enjoyable. It is still forever.

In thousands of years, most people do not complain about fresh air, sunlight and the myriad of sights associated to a vacation. There are streams, leaves and lakes. It feels good. The pressure of needing to succeed living outside equates to losing.

I have thought about escaping the regular civilization. I have wondered why people have to buy land to live in a tent.

I seems like a tactical plot against everyone. You have to work and produce something for society to live in society. Why if you wanted to leave society?

Wild animals can live in a cave or under a patch of moss. If a person wants to live completely with modern convenience, it is not allowable.

According to books and novels, they would be without anything more than animals. That is not threatening. Societal preaching dictates that people living like animals would be monstrous or barbaric.

Would it really be awful to not contribute to society? What needs to be built?

It is not too much of a concern. I served my regulated hours to collect retirement. My family has given me their blessing. I help the society that helps me.

I don't want to live in the woods, dessert, prairie or bog. That would be weird.

Instead, I need to go and be around more people. A reflection to see what is happening in the world that matters to me.

It is weird. Once upon, a long time ago, I didn't spend most to the time around the house and watch shows every evening.

I actually talked to other people around my age in person and frequently. I feel so far from myself and alone. It will be nice even if extremely awkward.

I went to nightclub. It was great. Regulars were there. They went around doing things. I wondered if I knew them from school or work. Bad with faces and names, it was difficult to know anything.

It still felt nice. Life going on in order.

I asked people, whom I might know, to attend. They attended. Still, there is a haunting feeling. It could have been better.

I was alive and dancing. It was fun.

With or without talking, there was a sense of commendatory. Various statements about various concerns were audible.

I was dressed and they were dressed meaningfully. There was a sense of glamor, fragility and joy.

I feel good. I am home. It was nice. I feel more connected. I want to feel more connected.

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