The Things You Carry, The Weight You Bear

I am bushed in a profound way, and though I don't know why, really, I know what I will do about it.  I will not go to the factory.  I guess that is what I won't do.  What I will do is take the day for whatever foolishness I feel like.  That is what exhaustion calls for, and that is what I will provide it.  I wasn't certain that I would take the day off until just now, though I thought I would last night, and perhaps that is why I slept so well.  Or maybe it was the exhaustion itself that put me into such a profound and dead sleep.  Or it could have been the storm that came through early and the rain that lasted throughout the night that had me nuzzled into the pillows like the innocent weary.  It could have been many things, but now that I've decided not to go to work, I feel relaxed and ready to do nothing.

I will probably regret all this later today.  That is in my nature.

I am pretty well set with camera things again.  I am down a few items since the theft, but I have enough to do most things I could do before.  The weight of knowing that is now what I must bear.

What you want to do most is just get lost.  You want to have an unlimited amount of time to ride buses to new places just for the experience, to wander and to think.  And of course to make new stories and photographs.  You want to walk and talk and have a beer with people you don't know without trying to cram that into a weekend while the house repairs and other chores build up like accusations against you.  You want a season at least where the only thing that you must do is "be."  That is what you want, but you know you can't have it, or won't.  You have responsibilities, you think, and people to consider.  There is the cat, of course, and the need to make money.  And there is your mother and you have someone else to think about, too.  The parameters of your world just shrink, and you think that maybe you can do all that by just walking out into the street or driving the car and getting out to walk, but you know that will not cure you, that it will not suffice, and so the old doom and gloom and anxious dread sets in.  It is a matter of courage that you know better than to posses.