it's a sin that I can't tell the truth

It's occurred to me now that I am ready for something, but I don't know what. And I am waiting for something, but I don't know what. And that is strange indeed.

It is not the feeling of floating too high. I have felt that before, that giddy, suspended state, and the awareness that I have just another moment before I fall, hard. It is not that feeling.

And it is not the feeling of wallowing in the depths either. I have felt that before, that irrationally low weariness, and the struggle to get it together, because, come on, it's just not that bad. It is not that feeling either.

So what is this? It makes no sense. If I am so ready, why am I acting so passive? Why not make something happen instead of waiting for it, after all? Indeed, it is odd to feel simultaneously driven and aimless. It seems as though I have become one of those wind-up toys: all it would take is for someone to set me facing in a certain direction, and off I might go. I would not think to ask until much later if this was the course I wanted.

But all of this, I suppose, ultimately, is just a way to pass the time. I know what I want, but that is very much out of my hands just now. So, instead, I entertain myself with notions of other desires that might be buried under the all-consuming, dominating push towards one thing. And that gets right to the point- I am ready to be distracted.

So distract me, motherf***ers! With something other than Project Runway or Entourage. With something other than the banality of deadlines and discord at work. With something that is shiny and new, that holds the promise of buds about to bloom.

No? Then I will have to get my lazy a$$ back to baking.