hummingbirds in my veins

my passenger side windsheild wiper flew off my car on thursday. i looked up in time to see it crunch under the tire of the burgundy chevy tahoe behind me.

it was one of those weeks.

not where anything unexpected happens. just where small unsettling things make your nerves feel a bit jangled.

i've got a to-do list for saturday. not sure how much i'll accomplish; just a list.

just a bit under-over-whelmed, for some reason. i'm trying to put my finger on it, but it's like trying to pin down a cloud. my thought process is wandering.

lost sheep, anyone? i've wandered away from the herd. or i'm still camoflauged by the herd, but my wool's dyed green.

just disconnected. it's been a busy week, i'll give it that--one of those weeks that caters to my addled kaleidescope of a brain. too many things going on--but not so much that i can't handle it.

sometimes i see my spotty thought process as a blessing--i'm rarely bored by life. and sometimes, like today, i can sit in retrospect be frustrated by my own distraction.

at cubeland this week i did my job. i typed up an additional training guide for one of our systems, drafted and sent an email regarding a new process, emailed so constantly that i started to wonder if i was being paid to email my own friends.

i had a dream last night that i was cleaning the house in a complete frenzy. when dan asked me to slow down, i told him i couldn't, i had hummingbirds in my veins.

the wiper seems like a physical expression of my thoughts this week: unexpected, unhooked, arching through the air end over end. i can see my blog is following the same frayed pattern, with short sentences and paragraphs.

manic? or just terribly distracted? is there a med for this endless mobius of thought, a medical explanation that sums me up?

"The Ouroboros often represents self-reflexivity or cyclicality, especially in the sense of something constantly re-creating itself, the eternal return, and other things perceived as cycles that begin anew as soon as they end. It can also represent the idea of primordial unity."

nature has its own cycles. i am a product of the natural world; some amoeba in my past crawled out of the primordial ooze and managed to slouch into humanity over a bit of time.

who is going to say that nature is wrong, that the river doesn't run the right course, that the tree is misshapen, that the rabbit runs a jagged journey for no reason?

why is it so horrible that i am so distracted? the avenues it opens for me are often as unexpected as that wiper, and as fleeting as a hummingbird--but they are the natural product of my self.

and where does self end, and the chemical being take over, and be flawed in the eyes of society?