Plastic Room

Some part of me is out of balance. Or perhaps it swings in and out of balance, I'm not quite sure yet. I'd wager the latter. Whatever it is, I struggle with knowing what to do at times. Indecision is a common component in my daily speech and writing, if you've noticed. I haven't ever been able to pinpoint what causes this lack of definite-ness. Regardless, its there on a regular basis and usually isn't a huge deal.

Other times it is.

There are days where I'll experience a sudden mental panic. Typically its brought on by many options being presented before me. Just tonight, I made two choices in my head of what I would do with my evening. Get Taco Bell, come home, and either catch up on writing or begin cleaning my room. For those that don't know, my room is a disaster. I'd say that it directly reflects my mental process. Semi-organized clutter, but it nearing a state of crisis every day. The messy room itself is stressful upon my mind, much less the indecision of what action to take. I'll find myself literally standing in place, staring blankly, mind racing as to what the next step is I need to take. Its torment.

Things got worse when I was asked if I wanted to go to a movie. I had to lay down to calm down. The swirling in my skull was too much to handle. It all sounds a bit nutty as I write it out here, so I'll explain. The things that are going on in my head are extremely trivial and petty. But they build up to near catastrophe it seems. I weigh the options in my mind. Writing would seem the obvious choice, beings that I haven't written in over three days. It would relieve certain mental strains. Then I realize that the Mill is closed and my desk is a mess and unusable. So I think to myself that I should just clean my desk and room. That's when I think about all the writing time I'll lose, tidying the desk. I could write in bed, but it makes me sleepy and I don't want to waste time. I ponder the movie, and it sounds enticing but makes me feel unproductive.

Its like a blender in my head is turned on; all these thoughts and considerations swirling around. I panic, and I twitch a little bit. I start feeling like I want to scream or throw something. But that is when I know I need to sit or lay down and let the blender cycle end.

So tonight I gave this all some serious thought as to why I get this way. I think its because I need to write. But not just write. I need to have the special alone writing time I get when I'm in a coffee shop. Quiet. Meditative. Productive. Maybe it is when I don't accomplish anything I'm proud of that I start getting desperate and panicky. Like I'm wasting something. Wasting precious free time that I have while I'm on break from school and work.

I watch the ShowTime program Dexter. He's a serial killer that has learned to use his killing abilities to kill bad guys. He has an inner need, a "dark passenger", as he calls. In order to keep it from consuming him, he has to kill. Its his demon. Some days I feel like I relate a lot to Dexter. Not in the killing sense of course. But in his need to escape from structure. He has a job and family and has to juggle them a lot of times to accommodate his private agenda. I'm always fighting against the schedules and requirements around me to find room for personal time. Time for writing and music and creating. Now that I'm on break, my schedule has been thrown off and time for those things has to be made again, and its difficult.

I haven't ever been an organized person. So setting aside time in advance for activities usually doesn't happen. Its a part of me that I have to keep working on, but that comes with great trepidation. I don't understand why I have to be that way. All I know is that I need to continue trying so I can feed my own "dark passenger", though it isn't nearly as dark as Dexter's. Despite the difference in activities he and I take part in, we both find a level of peace when we do them. Dexter, in his plastic covered room with his evil victim is able to reveal his true self. The prey sees Dexter for what he is; the hunter. In the coffee shop, I can let out whatever it is I am inside. The sanguine. The emo. The free spirit. The psycho. The artist. When Dexter and I are in our prime environments, we thrive. When we can escape the structure around us, we finally find contentment and peace.





Its been about four days since I've written. Sorry to keep everyone out there wondering. I meant to post more for Christmas, but alas it did not happen. I finally hit this breaking point and I needed to just put my fingers on the keys. Hopefully you enjoyed it and you all had a Merry Christmas. Leave comments below and keep an eye out for something about New Years!