my dreams are tangible beings, standing in front of me, shifting silently from one leg to the other, the awkward dance of the impatient. nobody says anything. apparently they're all waiting on me.

it's disturbing. you wouldn't think it would be. i wouldn't anyway. having your dreams so close they could reach out and touch you at any moment.
but it is.
staring at them like children, or friends, or who the hell knows what. beautiful and real, wanting to make me smile. to make me happy. my little ones, trying to grow up before my eyes.

all they need is me-my time, my attention, my unrelenting devotion.
it's a hell of a thing to know that you can't feed them all.
how do you make that choice? to feed one and watch the other starve. to spread what you have around so that all live but none too much. not wanting to play favorites, even though there are obvious favorites. everyone has favorites. i know, that even as close as they are, i can't make it work. i can't build them all to independence, not all at the same time. i don't think i was expecting them all at the same time.

i've known of my finiteness since the age of 12 when broken bones showed me that unaided flight was beyond me, but i'm just now realizing that my finiteness is a bit too much so to be able to adequately feed all of my dreams. some will have to starve, to wait on the side for their time. i imagine one or two won't make it. they'll leave me. or they'll starve to death in utter devotion.

it was easier when i could see them as imaginary. some far off ideas that i read in a book. lose yourself in it for a time and then come out of that world into your own. they come with you in some way, vaguely, abstractly, nothing more.

but now they're here, still here. so close. so real. staring at me with love and desire. i can feel their breathing sighs. i realize i'm holding my breath. i shift legs. scratch my left eyebrow.

it's a hell of a thing. knowing you can't feed them all.

i don't believe in objectivity. not that i don't believe it's a good idea. it's a great idea. modernism, globalism: beautiful concepts. everything is in the open. everything and everyone connected into one massive hive-live being. great idea. makes a lot of life-aspects stunningly better. but it doesn't create objectivity. it generates knowledge. knowledge that is still filtered through the subjectivity of our own experiences, of our own lives. only God is objective. he's omniscient. since he knows everything (knowing every experience and perspective at the same time (relatively speaking of course, because time is irrelevant to him)), he is simultaneously subjective from every point. he is objective through the entire spectrum of the subjective.

which brings me to now.

subjectivity is a bitch. it's true.
all i can do is stare through the back of my thoughts at everyone walking so purposefully on the other side.

and act accordingly.

i've stopped writing.
i just thought about that this morning, after the second cup of coffee. it makes sense i guess. i've been friends with a professional writer, which makes my attempts look more like a hobby. i worked to prove i could do anything at my job. and i did. the result, unfortunately, is that i'm now tasked with a broader scope of responsibilities (design being one of them. i hate design). the writing has been completely taken from me and given to the new guy. he's become the writer here. i'm treated like the most literate non-writing person in the world.

so it's a natural progression i guess. to stop writing. it's depressing though. it's hard to lose things you love.

i seem to be doing that a lot lately. losing things i love.

apparently facebook doesn't really allow you to quit. not really. i got an email today that says "[some person] wants to be your friend." which was interesting to me as i didn't think i existed in facebookuniverse any more. i was wrong. it happens sometimes.

so i go back to login to see what happens. "welcome back" it says. like i just took a short vacation or something. while i'm flattered that facebook cares so much that it doesn't want to let me go, i don't know that this is actually a good thing. social networks shouldn't miss me and hold on when i say goodbye. i feel like i'm being stalked by facebook. not by anyone. by the actual program. it's kind of scary. i'm wondering if i should lock my door. like maybe a big computer is going to show up on my doorstep and ask me to go for coffee. which is just ridiculous i know. computer systems can't drink coffee.

it's amazing to me how much i censor my thoughts even when i know that no one is going to read this. i'm on draft three of a simple note about how i deleted my facebook to allow myself the freedom to really write my thoughts on a page that no one will read (sort of give me that daring sense of openness that someone could actually know what i'm thinking, but with little danger because not even i read this page). and i'm still censoring. brilliant eh? maybe i'm hiding these thoughts from myself. (let's play at psychology right?)

i'm thinking things i don't want to admit to thinking. connecting dots that aren't in the same picture and staring at the picture like it's some zen revelation. it's not zen. hell, it's not even real. i know that. but i still keep looking at the picture and tracing the lines.

i think that's one of the main reasons i feel like disappearing right now (there's always a reason. maybe not a good one. maybe just plenty of bad ones). to disconnect from ideas. long enough that i can change the perception of the people around me. back to a more (less) comfortable place.