twisted fingers

I think some days if I twiddle my thumbs one more hour they will tangle and then I'll be in a real mess. I should write an email? No. That's already been decided. I do nothing, but I'm not good at it. I'm not good at waiting. I don't have much faith in the process, though that could have something to do with my impulsiveness cutting short any previous tries. It's not like I'm alone. It's a little better on days when I'm busy. So impatient, wondering about a lot of things. I guess this doesn't make sense.

No, it doesn't make sense, but this blog wouldn't be worth your time if I only wrote when I was excited or happy about something. I used to journal when my thoughts didn't make sense, I'd just write until I ran out of words and somehow that helped me feel better. So maybe that's what I'm reaching for today. Sometimes I'll just smile real big at nothing aparent, but I have memories that don't warrent explaining to anyone who wasn't there. I like talking about good times, but the realist in me knows that the past was, and the future might be one way or another, but I have to judge each day based on today.

Song lyrics going through my head today:

" I miss you my friends, more than words can say " - notmother?
"If dreams are like movies than memories are films about ghosts " - counting crows