It's not hard to fall...when you float like a cannonball.

I have had Damien Rice lyrics stuck in my head all afternoon. Maybe in posting them, by releasing them out into this technological void, I will be able to clear my mind. I will include them at the end of this post.

Today has been filled with much melodrama and too many words. It has me thinking about the Chaos Theory, and the more I think, the more absolute sense it makes-- finding patterns and answers in even the most obscure data. I suppose many days are like that. As far as my personal life, I am really weighing the idea of honesty. It is a gift and a curse I suppose. I have learned that you can be too honest, and that comes back to haunt you and it causes massive amounts of needless destruction in its wake. I guess you can take anything to the nth degree: loyalty, friendship, love, compassion, honesty, devotion...pretty much any abstract concept. I am trying to decipher the line. I know it is there, but it seems like I don't know I have crossed it until it's too late. When I do cross any sort of proverbial line, my first instinct is to act. Some create distance; I act. I am trying to fight my instincts and sit on my hands for a bit. This is pressing my limits, but I think it is causing me to grow. Maybe we should all fight our instincts on something and go the opposite direction for once. Maybe it will open doors I have never been able to see, or if not a door, possibly a small window. If you have any thoughts on this, I would appreciate it...as long as you don't get too existential/philosophical on me.

As far as academics is concerned, I have reached a new level of apathy in my studies. Not only do I not care, but I put things off until the last second. I have missed classes this week. I have missed work. I am becoming a post-grad bum. If anyone sees me with my pockets hanging out, glasses on crooked, hair so disheveled that you can't even see my eyes, please pull me aside and remind me that I need to take school seriously. I will probably make some jack-ass comment and walk away laughing, but I need the reminder...badly. I don't want to be at Hardin-Simmons forever. Right now I am trying to work out the problems I have run into with my autobiography for Dr. Thompson's class. I do believe there is such thing as "too experimental" when it comes to writing; especially writing that will be read aloud to a class. My biggest hurdle thus far is in dividing the persona's physical self from her mental dialogue. I am wanting to work with stream-of-consciousness, bringing in many of Woolf's techniques from "Mrs. Dalloway". Any ideas?

Okay, well. I have run out of things to say for the time being. Tonight it is studying and Sex and the City season six for me and Danielle. I think I want Chinese for dinner. Food is one arena in which I show no apathy.

Now, for Mr. Rice:

There’s still a little bit of your taste in my mouth
There’s still a little bit of you laced with my doubt
It’s still a little hard to say what's going on
There’s still a little bit of your ghost your witness
There’s still a little bit of your face i haven't kissed
You step a little closer each day
That i can’t say what's going on
Stones taught me to fly
Love, it taught me to lie
Life, it taught me to die
So it's not hard to fall when you float like a cannonball
There’s still a little bit of your song in my ear
There’s still a little bit of your words I long to hear
You step a little closer to me
So close that I can't see what's going on
Stones taught me to fly
Love, it taught me to lie
Life taught me to die
So it's not hard to fall when you float like a cannonball.
Stones taught me to fly
Love taught me to cry
So come on courage, teach me to be shy
'Cause it's not hard to fall and I don't wanna scare her
It's not hard to fall and I don't wanna lose
It's not hard to grow
When you know that you just don't know