Speed is the Sound of Loneliness

When life speeds up it becomes like USA TODAY: lots of pictures, lots of headlines, not a lot of content. Life becomes blurbs; sound bites bridging the present and the next. I can't focus on the here because the next is just too looming or shiny. I'm even ADHD in the abstract.
One of my mentors, who loves me enough to actually care about my bullshit, asked me about my heart and I honestly didn't have an answer—it's like going so much negates all but the most banal of voices, those of sleep, eat, shit, shut up and drink. I don't know where my heart is, what it is feeling because I haven't stopped to let it catch its metaphorical breath (I picture my heart as a mildly wheezy kid with over-sized glasses and an analytical nature that makes the rest of me roll our collective eyes) long enough to formulate an opinion. I'm busy but maybe I'm also running, I don't know.
At the same time I'm very happy with life so the things from which I'd be running are cursory and not so looming as to necessitate the fight or flight so I don't know why I'd be back on my heels in the first place. Maybe speed walking; maybe a brisk pace but running no. I feel like there should be something I'm running from, should be something I'm supposed to turn and fight but at this point I feel like I'd just be making it up for the sake of the fight (insert lots of American historical war references here) rather than the need to reclaim or defend. Maybe I'm busy because I have a lot going on and not for any other reason than that. How novel.

"So what in the world's come over you
And what in heaven's name have you done
You've broken the speed of the sound of loneliness
You're out there running just to be on the run"
--John Prine "Speed is the Sound of Loneliness"

Mosaic

I've been busy lately with things outside of work and I love it. Last week I spent Monday with friends who came out to camp to enjoy the nice weather with kids and dogs and then back to their house for a big dinner and games, then Tuesday I missed a birthday party at Chuck E. Cheese b/c my nap turned into the previous post titled "Could", Wednesday was a impromptu trip to Greenville, SC for some BBQ at a place that ended up being closed (BAH!), Thursday was watching "Lost" online at Caroline's house before racing back to catch "Grey's" at Eva's. Friday was another big dinner night in West Asheville and talking with friends about nerdy topics and a sleepover. Saturday was a big breakfast, a great hike just off the Blue Ridge Parkway, a late lunch at the Bakery and "Waiting for Guffman" over freshly made pizza. Sunday church was such a refreshing experience and the lunch afterward went right along with the community. Sunday afternoon was time to rest, read and...wait, I have no recollection of yesterday. None. What did I do yesterday afternoon? Last night? I feel like the guy from "Memento" all of a sudden...

There are days when my life has the feeling of a mosaic; a collection of overlapping stories and punchlines: the poignant and the pugnacious, the preposterous and the petty. Sometimes I feel like all I am are stories. I simply tell them because they are mine, not because they free me or offer others any insight. I give them in place of me. Does that make sense? Instead of giving who I am I present stories.
I guess I'm thinking on how I define myself to others, both consciously and unconsciously, and how I'd ever learn to go about it differently.