Things in my head

I was thinking, and I know you wish I wouldn't, but I can't stop.  I really wanted to write a scathing blog about the 15 year old that stabbed someone through the heart over being asked to stop throwing conkers around.  I have a lot of thoughts about that and they're thoughts I've voiced but not yet blogged.  But as I was sitting here, I thought damn, I need to go to the shop and I'm still drained from the bad jab night I had.

I was thinking what a mess I am and haven't the energy to do anything about it.  I was thinking that I might have to take my stick for the first time in a while.  I was thinking that unless something miraculous happens in the near future, my life on wheels will have to begin.

Oh no, I hear you thinking, here we go.  But I'm not bemoaning anything.  From life on wheels my thoughts wandered off even further to ponder the prospect of wearing any shoes I like because I won't lose my balance in them and I won't get blisters.  Then I thought I'd probably never have to worry about developing hard skin or corns or bad bunions.  But then the little devil on my shoulder piped up, but what if you get hard skin and corns on your bum instead?

At this point, I hit pause on the thought track and tried to think of other things to change the direction.  I was watching House but stopped paying attention when it ended.  Looking up at the TV there's a Star Trek episode on.  It must have beamed in, because I didn't register it before that.  It's a Voyager, I think.  The aliens have unusual skin.  It did nothing to clear my mind of potential lumps and bumps appearing where I don't want them to.

So what can I do?  Well, I think drag myself to the shop for the sake of stretching my legs and see if talking to some sane and rational people might snap me back to thinking sane and rational things.  But I really should do some writing and thinking sane and rational things is not always conducive to the most imaginative work.  However, there's a short story I'm working on that links in nicely to youth violence, so perhaps if I can get them to rant or comment, I might get sane and rational thought as well as a useful line to follow.

There's know knowing until I heave my aching carcass up the street, I guess.  I just have to keep the things in my head quiet so they can be replaced with other more workable things.  Yes, I do worry sometimes, but it soon passes...