snippets.

some nights i think i’ll wake up and you’ll have been right all along. you’ll be the genius… i’ll be blind. clawing at sparkles in dust motes.

some days everything floating around in my head for months finally pieces itself together.

it’s about quality, not perfection.

stop liking things you’re good at and start liking things you find interesting.

it’s not 700, some days. it’s two, and i’m trapped between them.

“Turning away from the computer I saw through my own narrow window (at least it opened) the green, the blue, the flashes. I looked to the clock, the screen, the window. An hour passed, then two. I looked again at the clock and saw it had been only twenty minutes. I willed the second-hand, the minute-hand, the hour-hand to move faster, to deliver me to five o’clock when I would be released as from my prison term. Then suddenly I stopped, struck by the absurdity of wishing away the only thing I’ve got. Eight hours, eighty years, it was all too similar. Would I wish away the years until the day of my retirement, until my time was once again my own? At work I tried to keep busy to make the hours pass quickly. It was no different when watching television, socializing, moving frenetically—there are so many ways to kill time.

I remember staring at the computer screen—light green letters on dark—then at the clock, and finally at my outstretched fingers held a foot in front of my face. And then it dawned on me: selling the hours of my life was no different from selling my fingers one by one. We’ve only so many hours, so many fingers; when they’re gone, they’re gone for good.

I quit work two weeks later—having sold another eighty of my hours—and knew I could never again work a regular job.”

— Derrick Jensen

you really have no idea, do you?

let’s keep it that way.

racing through my head, looping like a song that used to be my favorite. i’m sorry. i can’t.

restraint restraint restraint.

(the secret is to pretend you know what you’re doing until you fool even yourself.)