gillian in wonderland
If I was on acid it would make much more sense.
But I'm tripping on my imagination, lost in a parallel universe of thought.
Things make sense if I write them out, if they're tangible, if they're beautiful, different, miscalculated or offbeat.
As soon as rules, titles, facts or figures enter my dreamy world I fall off track. I used to sit through Math and Science and feel as if the teacher were speaking German. While other students scribbled down answers and stuck their hands up all I could do was scrawl in my notebook and avoid being asked anything.
It's brought on a life long struggle of convincing myself I'm not stupid.
I'm still struck daily with the whip of matters I cannot grasp. When I miscalculate important purchases at work at my cheeks turn a rosy red. When important historical dates or political knowledge come up in conversation I stare into the distance.
Sometimes I'm so lost in thought I find it hard to carry a simple conversation. I become distracted by a thought, by something in the sky, by a colour seen out of the corner of my eye. I grasp for words and reach for a generic answer. I fear I'll be taken as a bimbo and try not to flick my hair as I walk away. I don't even want to drive a car out of fear of being side tracked and killing a mother driving her six-year-old son to school.
If the mind is a drug, then I'm getting way too high. Sometimes it just seems the best place to be.
But I'm tripping on my imagination, lost in a parallel universe of thought.
Things make sense if I write them out, if they're tangible, if they're beautiful, different, miscalculated or offbeat.
As soon as rules, titles, facts or figures enter my dreamy world I fall off track. I used to sit through Math and Science and feel as if the teacher were speaking German. While other students scribbled down answers and stuck their hands up all I could do was scrawl in my notebook and avoid being asked anything.
It's brought on a life long struggle of convincing myself I'm not stupid.
I'm still struck daily with the whip of matters I cannot grasp. When I miscalculate important purchases at work at my cheeks turn a rosy red. When important historical dates or political knowledge come up in conversation I stare into the distance.
Sometimes I'm so lost in thought I find it hard to carry a simple conversation. I become distracted by a thought, by something in the sky, by a colour seen out of the corner of my eye. I grasp for words and reach for a generic answer. I fear I'll be taken as a bimbo and try not to flick my hair as I walk away. I don't even want to drive a car out of fear of being side tracked and killing a mother driving her six-year-old son to school.
If the mind is a drug, then I'm getting way too high. Sometimes it just seems the best place to be.
posted by Gillian Young at 10:06 PM
1 Comments:
gigi,
we're all high, all the time. it's just a matter of getting to know your drug of choice and indulging yourself in the bliss that is whatever type of intoxication the moment craves.
there's no such thing as stupid people, the human race is so entirely and sometimes wonderfully ignorant.
so let's get wasted? just try to find a high that doesn't hurt coming down.
shishi
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