I hang on because ...

You don't know how much it means to me.

Thank you all.

Sincerely,
Coffee Girl

Hesitation ...

There are usually two ways of knowing when I am going on the right track ...

1. I feel good about it ...
2. I don't hesitate ...

These are usually the indicators of things good to come, that no matter what I encounter along the way, I could still go on happy and strong.

When I get half - half, that's when I pause, look back, and analyse why I feel that way. The trick is to tread carefully and watch out for tell-tale signs. One barrier after another. Either come out the victor, or fall back and regroup.

However, if I get the opposite feelings for both, and if I insist on going ahead anyway, something not quite right will occur and then on I would have to bear the consequences. This is usually when I would slam on the emergency brake and brace for whatever comes next.

After been ignoring these signs for so long, so so long that like an unlubricated mechanism, I have become rusty and my indicators have gone haywired. I might have mixed up the signals a little and I have been guilty of not taking care of the immediate concerns. They keep reading errors when they should be reading something else.

When the voice of hesitation speaks, listen for it is trying to tell you something. What did your mother teach you about instinct and intuition? Always pay attention to them.

Note: dont ask me what it means. i write, to avoid speaking. just perhaps this -- my anchor, it fell away unnoticed. i am incoherent. i only have prayers. i am probably better off alone. for now.

Night time drive ...

What do you do when you need to get away from it all?

Sometimes when nothing else works, burning fuel on a night time lone ride does the trick. Like cool-aid. Driving around with no destination, racing where there's a speed limit, winding down the front windows to feel the breeze coming in, and tuning up the radio full blast. Cruising along the stopgap highway with the rest of the miserable nocturnal creatures. Looking for redemption, or a temporary relief from a certain ache. The further the distance, the longer the return. Sometimes just far enough for the tears to stop.

Sometimes it was a form of self-punishment: driving nowhere just to see how fast I could make the gas sign blink on a road I consciously know the next gas station is not near enough; or navigate recklesly to see how far the hands of God will keep me from crashing. Like playing with fire. Sometimes it was a form of punishment for the person who caused it: the thought of him worrying sick and angry at me for putting myself at risk, is like a balm to a miserable soul. Like knowing at least someone cared.

I know. I'm a little sick psycho sometimes. Especially when I'm hurt.
 

night rider in her faithful jazz

Or, maybe I should write that in PAST TENSE, all of them, because lately I find myself hardly doing that anymore. I got delightfully distracted enough to find my way home safe and sound day by day, without detouring.

Oh I doubt that would stop altogether, after all, habits die hard. There's still the urge.

Now I just do it for different reasons: to floor the restlessness or indecision caused by a few important matters that need settling. And I hope there will come a time when I don't have to take the night time ride to nowhere alone anymore.

Will this peace settle at last? God help me.

p/s: Oh great. Why am I feeling mellow all of a sudden?