Cardboard Erasers

This is one of the posts that shouldn't be written - it should be slept off into the infinite, what Plato called the Realm of Becoming, unknown to mere mortals, only enjoyed by spirits above. But something impels me to stand here, without sitting, at 2:27 AM, before a day of research and language study, and write these words to you. This morning, I bought breakfast from my everyday vendor. I was moving so fast, trying in mangled Vietnamese to understand why she didn't have eggs and tell her that it was alright - I still wanted cheese. Amid my furious vortex of thought and panic, I stopped without trying to, just stopped right there. I realized that I had slowed myself down. Maybe that's more of what I need, slowing myself down. Life comes at'cha fast, doesn't it? Moments like that move slowly.

And what's with the title? I don't know. I stood here for a little while trying to come up with something better, but I kept coming back to "Cardboard Erasers." Now that I stand with an aerial view of my keyboard, I see my hands pouncing on keys like airplans pursuing their targets. Repositioning as the mothership doles out orders, directing each on its way towards home.