This is Not Attractive

Taking courage in both hands... this is what we say in Italy. The meaning is rather obvious is it not? Sometimes you gotta wait til you feel high and strong to be able to make a difficult decision. You know that later you will have your weak moments but if you do it when you feel on top of the world you are operating from the vantage point of having all the resources to deal with the upcoming difficulties. You sort of feel like you 'll be ok, and that gives you the strength to go with the right path for you even though it is scary. So I did it. I waited til I felt on top of the world, after a gig. And it seemed easier. Later I still had to pay the consequences and felt like crap for a while but at least I wasn't in Limbo anymore and deep inside I knew I had done the right thing. A few days have now passed and I have had my moments of insecurity and tears. I have felt like nothing ever changes and that I am always falling into the same patterns. But then I picked myself up:

Memory. Identity. A story. Are you your story ? If so, what happens when you forget it ? What if you ever do ? Are you gone or is it  still you ? Memory is so crucial because it helps us define who we are. And yet we are more than a sequence of past events. We still live in the present when our memory is gone.  Love. What happens to love when we cannot remember who we loved yesterday ? and if love is gone too, how much it is just memory, past association to pleasure and attachment to dreams of  future pleasure ? Could we still love without a memory ?  So much of our lives is dependant on memory. Losing it is worse than losing a limb. But for whom is it worse ? Those who lose it or those who watch us lose it ? If you cannot remember what you have forgotten it is certainly confusing but not as bad as watching someone forget they ever knew you. That is like erasing years of loving care with one swipe and it must hurt like nothing else. I always find it mind boggling how we take our bodies

Waiting. Waiting. Waiting. Like a piece of paper by the side of road, tossed in the wind. Like Xmas in September and the summer holidays in the depth of winter. Waiting for a time when it will all be all right. Except it won't. There's always something, always an obstacle. Patience, I am told. But life doesn't wait for anyone. Another day is gone and I could be dead, I could be walking in a different direction, I could be feeling happy. Anything could happen. What I don't want is this feeling of waiting, of being stuck in limbo, of hoping the emptiness will give way to something alive soon, but a voice tells me to let it go: you don't want to spend today sleeping only to wake up when it really is too late and find that all is left is a bitter cry for all that you left waiting for too long. I am sick of tomorrow. What about today ? Are you too busy to live ? You seem too busy to love. You are too busy, always too busy. Should I make an appointment now, but be re