Thoughts of a geek

3 February 2009

Mind. Mine. Also walking.

Filed under: Me — Tags: , , , — qwandor @ 1:12 am

I went walking. And running. I wrote, oddly and surprisingly. I did not set out with this in mind.

What follows is what I wrote. Each break is a new page. The only editing I did was to correct a few typos and spelling mistakes, and to make the first two ‘pages’ (lines) make sense. Much of this is unlikely to make sense. Here it is anyway.

[I] probably just want attention. Selfish.

[I am] lonely in a crowd.

How can I rely on people?

Everybody is talking at once and I cannot hear you and it is so noisy and I cannot hear myself think and argh and I want to escape and hide inside myself and run away and run with you and listen to good music, brain clearing music, and just one person talk at a time, please?

Running, running, running away, running away from myself?, running to stay sane, or am I insane? Lonely, if only I had someone to run with (with whom to run) — but what about God? God, be with me, be my strength, be my purpose, my reason, my hope, my salvation, my motivation; make me want to get up in the morning, to work, to keep going, to love people, even when it hurts (especially when it hurts, so much). Let me not be so selfish; let me serve you, not me; show me your will God! Oh God, be there, be with me, be my light. Light in a dark world, hope among the hopeless, reliable rock among unreliable people, committed totally. Be my strength, not my own; be my reason. Give me your peace, oh Lord! At least let me sleep.
Thankyou, Lord, that you are ever-loving, never-forsaking, unchanging, steady, all-knowing, perfect, flawless, faultless. Talk to me! Be with me God! Now. Always.
I need to get out, out, out, away. But lonely, unsatisfied, never satisfied…
I need you God!

I have never kept a diary. But thoughts, so many thoughts… they never get anywhere… just stew, a big stew, subdued by music, broiling at night, bubbling… nowhere to go…
But why secrecy? What is there to be afraid of? Embarrassment? People realising stupid and silly I am?
Nobody knows what goes on inside my mind (God knows). Nobody really knows me, not all of me (God knows).
My thumb is sore. Cold. (Also my hand.) Back into my pockets.
Passing Karori Normal School now. Normal.
Normally I listen to music. To numb my brain. I like music. My thumb is still sore. I need to stop.
Internal monologue. Monologue.
What am I looking for? What am I really looking for?
Subway. New World, Woolworths. Mobil. There is a car there. Someone going into the building.
I like RSA.
Cold thumb. No need to use the pedestrian crossing lights at thus time of night. No need to press the button.
Typing on this is slow. Especially with a sore arm.
Unedited. Uneditable.
Needing a title. Musing? Walking? Midnight? It is not quite midnight yet. 11:51 pm. Early.
A little cold. Ocassional cars, clearing as the night goes on. This is not a weather forecast.
Should turn back. Work. Sleep. Not tired though. Only tired when I should be awake, sleepless when I should be sleeping. Need to be. Need?
What do I really need?
Should talk more. I should. Cold hand. Legs are fine though. Keep walking. Always keep walking, keep on going.
“A little support is all Sophie needs”. To shine. To shine — how does Sophie shine? Who shines? What do people see? Keep walking. Walking is easy. Life is hard.

New page. Turn the page. A new leaf, what does that mean?
Writing. Writing is hard. Writing properly. Talking is hard. Harder? It depends.
Need to talk. Need to write. Really talk, more often. What is a real relationship? What do friends do anyway? Laugh. Chatter. Shallow. What dod God intend?
Sore thumb. Sore hands.
A playground. I gave been here before. Fun. Fun? What is fun? What is happiness all about?
12:02 am.
I really should turn back.
“Karori Park Sports Club & Cafe”
Turning around, turn a new page.

Back. On the left side of the road now. The same side. Walking is getting cold, time to run for a bit. My nose runs. Have to stop typing. This is addictive. Odd. Stop.
Mind. Mine. A title? Back to running.
Warm. Hands still cold though, cannot run with hands in pockets. Well, jog. Breathing heavily. No music to drown it out. Quiet. Peaceful. Here comes a motorbike. And a car. Run, again.
There is a tradeoff. Sleep and sanity. Not that I can sleep.
Need to pray.
Call on God’s name. God is great. Creator of all. Lord of all.
Am I sane? Who is sane? Raise your hand please. How do you do it? How is it done? Really? Just do it.
Time to run some more. Downhill.
There was a car accident here. Last year? Familiar shortcut. From 2007. Not going through that way this time though.
More running.
Nope, just walked.
Oh, I do not understand people (changing topics).
Past the bottom of Northland Road (no, not toad). Familiar route. This is all familiar though. Habit.

Passing a florist. “Valentines Day”, come buy love. Time is running out. Make your time. I fear rejection.
Hello, world. Hello world. Do I know the language? Really? Or just a few textbook examples. A ‘social interaction’ phrasebook. Look up your social conventions. Niceties. Never really understand though. I just think I do, occasionally. Flukes. Beginner’s luck. Unrepeatable. Such a shame. Only memories, only a few. Glad, I guess, but bittersweet. Thankyou, but ever again? How? What is the trick?
It is warmer here. Even my hands. Nearly home. I do not want to sleep though. Need to. Responsibility.
Songs going through my head. “Satellite…”. Cannot remember the words.
Walking down the last hill. Home straight. Home. What is home really? What is a home?
No need to check the letterbox. I checked it just a few hours ago. Restrain the habit. Unlock the door.
Shadows. “We see dimly…”
12:50 am



  1. Love you, Andrew. You’re such an amazing person, you know that? I think you should write more often… you made me tear up a little :P. Which is a good thing. If you can do that, it means you can express yourself honestly enough and well enough in words to reach me, and I am by no means a kindly critic when it comes to words, so I know what I’m saying :P. Write more.

    Your first part reminds me of my own writing. We ask God to be so many things for us because we want so much for him to be ours. (I have no idea what that means, it just sounded right. I think it’s right, too.)

    Comment by Me. — 29 May 2009 @ 5:48 am

    • The thing is, I did not write this because I wanted it to be ‘appreciated’ or something. I am not quite sure why I put it online; I guess I had hoped to find someone to talk to.
      So, why should I write more? It does not seem to achieve anything helpful. Or, when I write, what should I do with what I write?

      Comment by qwandor — 2 August 2009 @ 8:39 am

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