Baggage & Confusion

I can't do my job properly because of my open wounds. My brain's not working properly because its' toxic tide is still washing out. All sorts of useless thoughts are getting in the way of my necessary work. It's these kind of experiences that bring up my feelings of doom and hopelessness. And now there's fucking opera on my reliable classical radio station. I hate opera. The tick-tocking cat is also driving me mad, but he has brought in some dollars over the last week. Maybe I'll move him to the other window for the next few hours. I'm so angry at myself I feel sick. I flick through books looking for clues to my dilemma. I feel my heart racing. I get more upset when I realise that if I'm so under-evolved, there's even slimmer chance of romance being just around the corner. I really have hit an oil spill of negativity. I am going to abort this post now and listen to one of Russ Harris' meditations.

I'm embarking on a new phase in my career and I should be heartened and excited by the opportunities. Instead I feel totally incapable and don't trust myself, AT ALL. I want to throw the computer out the window and the feng shui cat against the wall.

At least there's rain outside. I love the rain. It's even more enjoyable now that I have a car. It's not really my car. That's another item I can switch across to the negativity column. I hate my brain. I really don't know why it does this, especially in the face of opportunity.

I've just put on Erik Satie music to try and calm me. A while ago as something soothing to get me back into my work, I made a cup of Chai. I think it's giving me allergies.