Mooreover / Blog

My mind is a bejeweled bag overladen with receipts, gum wrappers and the weight of its adornments.

It’s dangerous writing in a coffee shop, surrounded by game-playing teens and housewives – it tends to pigeon-hole my metaphors. My mind is over-run – I’m full of “myself” – and I thought that writing something down might purge some of the pressure. But I can’t seem to freely write like I used to, so I have to ride a tributary of observation until I can steer my vessel on the tumultuous rapids of my thoughts. The woman next to me has a heavily adorned bag – pink leather with fat silver rivets, a stark contrast to the utilitarian Ogio messenger bag that shepherds her computer. She drinks drip – hot enough to warrant a sleeve. I think she must be grading science papers.

I’m drinking a glass of 14 Hands Cabernet. I had a professor in college that used to tell us that she graded our papers in her bathtub with a bottle of red wine. Eventually the dried red drops on my Mythology paper would be her testimony. She was a “character” – a status I think is worthy of achieving. If you aren’t a “character” what are you? People are described by what they do (engineer, teacher, bus driver) – with the exception of “characters.” Characters have a personality that overpowers their limitations in a smothering embrace. Characters have to be a little jovial though – otherwise they become curmudgeons.

It’s hard to write when a glass of wine is your sand timer – the rate of descent is too uneven to develop a steady pace.

Starting to feel better. I became overwhelmed with the knowledge of the absence of God today. I could have said that I became overwhelmed with the knowledge of the presence of evil, but that makes it sound like an excerpt from “Twilight.” In the span of a couple of weeks I have run into a couple of people that weren’t evil, but the absence of God in their life was so complete that it felt as though my heart had had a run-in with a melon-baller. They were jovial in their ignorance, but their indifference to good created a storm in my soul. Quiet reverence is no match for a jovial indifference to God. A more active role is going to be necessary…

Two months between posts gives me a quiet confidence – like I’m shouting in an empty room.

There is a condition in sales that is a little like post-partum depression. Birthing a paycheck in real estate can take months, and in the case of some clients, sometimes years. Once the home is found or an offer is agreed upon, there is still 30-60 days of waiting, culminated in a paycheck that is spent as quickly as it cashed. Working so hard for such a quick labor brings on its own case of baby blues, and I seem to get a case with every closing. Closings have been frequent, so I guess I feel like I’ve just had quintuplets. When you have that many kids at once, people revel in the fact that everyone is healthy. Knowing that everyone is healthy doesn’t mean that everyone is happy. Happiness is best maintained at a measured pace, so I’m embracing the day and finding a rhythm.