Blank Stare

Ever just sit and stare blankly? I just want to sit and stare. At the sky, at the trees, at the sunset, at nature. At the carpet, at the wall, at the PC screen - no, scratch that, not the screen, if that's alright. At the passers by passing by, and the butterflies fluttering who knows where. I want to stare at the dog, glare at the cats, and glance askance at the gerbils in their cage with their own wheel, their own tunnels, their own jobs and timeclocks and dependents and tax refunds. I want to sit and doze off thinking about nothing, contemplating nothing, dwelling on nothing.

I want to forget punctuation and capitalixation and i want to stop trying to make sense and ignore spelling and grammar and what is a run-on sentence anyway and will any of this make sense after the mIchAel jaCksoN trial is over and the breakfast club is still the best teen ensemble-cast movie ever made in a library.

I feel like I'm living a contradiction, a walking paradox waiting for some smack of reality to void me where I'm prohibited. I feel like I've been incredibly productive, and like I've gotten absolutely nothing done. I feel like I wake up and go to bed, and in between I have fun and laugh and work hard and play harder and brush my teeth to get rid of the coffee aftertaste. That's it. That's my day. It's not a bad thing, just my thing - and I just want to stare blankly at the world that seems to be staring blankly at me.

But I don't want to drool like that. Not yet, anyhow. Eeew.