Oh man, am I congested right now. Because of this I am having a great difficulty breathing. It could be due to the fact that I am lying in a position in which the majority of my body pressure is forced onto my chest. Every couple of minutes I partake in a fit of unsuppressed coughing which only temporarily relieves it. I just realized something, the only time I blog with even just the slightest effort is when I am in a state of physical discomfort. Perhaps I just am more prompted to notice when I write about these types of things because even I find it annoying and whiny. I'm sorry I go into unnecessary detail about it. What I can rationalize about it is that physical feelings are much more concrete than all that emotional garble, and when the symptoms are mild enough it's easy to define them in words. Besides - I feel much more comfortable saying to an audience that I stubbed my toe than saying I am questionably depressed, neither of which happen to be true.

Today I played my keyboard for the first time in months and it felt great to learn a new song that I could sing along to. It's easy for me to get lost while playing. I focus so intently on every chord or note that I'm playing because each has it's own little job to do in creating that one specific sound. I like to think I enter this little pre-existing world of that one particular song, where everything around me are what make that song special to me. Eventually my subconscious mind takes on the role of auto-pilot and I can just roam around my little song world until it ends. I wonder if anyone could ever relate to that.

I started reading Dress Your Family in Corduroy and Denim by David Sedaris and am in awe at how funny it is. He makes the simplest things so funny but at the same time I feel so emotional invested in the book. It makes it very enjoyable to read.

Also, something awfully strange happened today. I was home alone, and was browsing the channels and finally put Spiderman on, extremely unconvinced that it what what I wanted to watch. To my surprise, it was on "the Spanish channel," and the entire movie was dubbed in comically unfitting Spanish voices. I regrettably watched a little under a half an hour of it, making out so few phrases only due to some select words and to following the context of the movie. Why I did this .. I really couldn't say.

I thought a lot today about my past life. Past life makes it sound like I was dead at some point, and am alive again. What I mean is just the person I was and the person I am now. Of course I am the same person, physically, and spiritually I guess, but I can constantly feel myself expanding. As if new cells of myself are spawning, sloughing off the old, deader me and metastasizing until I've realized and processed how it is I've changed. The process sometimes takes a long time if it's a big change, but other times it's just the little changes that add up into something that matters.

Holy crap, it is 3:05 in the morning. Weezing .. cough .. cough ...