Manifesting the ego

10/03/2009
Manifesting the ego

Isn’t it funny,
How everything that you have been opposed to
All your values
All your problems
Come to light
In an ironic pun.
A play on words

a un-discerned meaning
Freud was right
and I didn’t even know it contradicted.

Grammar and the Id

9/3/09

“Who knows whats going on”

I type

And watch the little red and green squiggles appear on the screen

“Whats the point?”

Again, ignorantly highlighting my stupidity.

The third time, and I give up

I search for the setting to turn off spelling and grammar checker but give up the futile mission before I’ve even begun.

Let them laugh at me.

I am lost for words

Narcissism

I’ve been thinking of things to write all week

And now I’m here

Nothing is great or inspiring.

I receive a text from my boyfriend

For my current mood it is inappropriately enthusiastic.

I send a flippant reply, Id hoping he will notice my displeasure with life at this moment in time resulting in many a comforting and complimentary word, superego hoping he won’t.

I pull at my hair and look around this tip of a room. Wishing it would clean itself. I’ve been wishing that for weeks, months. Maybe it’s all my fault?

Ha, I’m torn between tidying, going to sleep to face my dreams, or to sit here idly until its sufficiently late enough for in the morning to wish I’d gone to bed earlier, vow to do so from then onwards, just to break that vow again.

Broken that one a million times.

Maybe if I don’t go to college I could tidy my room.
I think again.
It’s a good excuse, a good loss of 10£ EMA,
But even if I did it won’t happen.
Bad excuse, Bad loss of £10.

Not that I really need the £10 for my meagre self inflicting existence. Ha.

I think of all the things in the room I could throw in the bin
“mastering mosaics” set I got when I was 10 and never used
Part of me wants to use it now, to defy my prior procrastination.
Part of me knows that even if i wanted to that wouldn’t happen.
The other part protests again.
We’ll see.

A pile of old magazines lurks in the corner
“But Maybe I’ll need them next week...”

The fish my dad carved that’s blue tacked to the wall above my bed is calling me to sleep.
Maybe I should go.
I love you.

He didn’t text back.