Blah, Blah, Blah blah, blah, blah, blah.

There's a moment you know.... You're Fucked. Not an inch more room, to self destruct.

Am feeling the need to post right now. When will my life start to make sense? When will I start to make sense of my life. When will I be able to take in, hold, and put out information the way I want to and the way I should be able to?

Somehow there is a break down. Always a breakdown. Sometimes it seems easy to find the breakdown, as in now: I just started reading the over 100 pages I have to read for tomorrow, and have already stopped two pages into it. In class tomorrow I will not have the information I was supposed to have gotten from this article. The answer seems obvious, BECAUSE I did not read. This is the answer.

But FUCK. Sometimes I do read, I try to read, as I tried to read the beginning of this article, but I kept going over and over the same three paragraphs without internalizing any of it. And after the upteenth time, I just stopped. Not just with those paragraphs, but with the article entirely.

Somehow I couldn't get myself just to read the sentences. I kept trying to skim but would get to the end, get mad I did not know what I was reading, go back to the top (de capita, from the top), and yet still not READ the thing. Or maybe I was reading all the words, each time, but somehow, hard to explain, I was just too scattered to take them all in.

Sometimes I do take in the words I'm reading. Sometimes, I read with a purpose and I take things in, though even those times I have trouble remembering what I have read. But nevermind this, atleast I understand.
Other times I understand nothing that I read.

And this non understanding is what keeps me from reading. It is why I looked up from my book to check my email and why I am now doing this instead of reading.
Also, I was reading over what I wrote about Hilary Clinton a couple days ago. What is up on the blog is not what I originally wrote. It is not even a single edit of what I originally wrote. It is a couple layers of "fixing". But half hearted attempts at fixing. It was attempts to try to cut out my rambling sentences and to give myself a point. But somehow I made it more jumbled and unclear with the edits. And now the thing just reads funny. I don't really make a point. I read it, and even I, who wrote the whole thing am disatisfied. That is all I wanted to say? No. But in the attempt to be concise, I killed the content.

And It is not coherent because it does not represent, anymore, my train of thought. It represents me, editing this paragraph, or this other one, at different times, and cutting things out, and not dealing with the whole thing from start to finish, because I never do. And so, it just doesn't make a point. It doesn't go from one thing to another or work together.
The only time I can be cohesive is when I write what I am thinking - the first go round.
After that, when I edit, it is as if I cut gaps into my writing. I make one thing into a dozen half formed little pieces that don't work together.
It is so damn frustrating.
I guess, my real problem, is that with things like the Hilary thing, it was hard for me to figure out what I wanted to say in the first place. The first go round was rambling because I was thinking through my own thoughts as I wrote. But the second time I still did not know what my kicker was, I had never hit it as squarely as I should have. So in editing the second time round I was just trying to help the prose without a firm idea of what the final point - the cohesive whole should be. And so, I couldn't really improve the whole piece. I couldn't only help certain paragraphs, but often by improving the paragraphs separately, I moved them further away from eachother, so that they no long made a point together (if they ever did).

There's my problem, I can't commit to a thesis, and therefore my writing is unclear.