Wednesday 12 November 2008

Under Rugs Swept

I am cow. Not because I have udders and eat grass and lie on Indian highways and give milk and moo. (Wow, cows do some many things.)

I ruminate. Yes, again not like the cow. Someone tells me something and I think about it, and think about it. Over and over again. Digging out that hole in my brain that once held my normal thought processes and replacing the void with a cacophony of voices that stop from sleeping. I have to consciously tell myself to stop thinking, like what Dean Sluyter wrote in The Zen Commandments and what half of the yoga teachers in class tell us to do. Then I slowly let the Sandman take over.

Don't you just hate it when some people know you better that you do yourself? Make you feel like crap. But it's true, no denying some truths and worse still, knowing you are denying the excuses you came up with. Yup, it's one of those weeks that keep you thinking. On Monday, I had a cider though. That was someone else's fault.

I actually sigh at this point. Let's see what gives. I sigh again. Somehow I don't believe myself. I think I get this from my mother. Hmmm. Ok, this is gonna be one of those posts only a few will get. Sorry.

4 comments:

Anonymous said...

yeah, i dont get anything. i even had to check the dictionary for "ruminate". damn. u just made me feel like a cow.

katiemom said...

I don't get it, but I certainly remember the times in Union, when we would yell at you and say "brudder, you bo liao, think too much la!"

gurmit singh said...

Ah, Union.

Anonymous said...

why would you want to consciously tell yourself to stop thinking?

if you can't let go of some thoughts, hold on to them. they could soon be a relevation. :P