on the verge of a daydream

i'm on the verge of daydream...between starting something and procrastinating about it. i find myself doing this a lot lately...i write here because for some reason writing in this journal doesn't count for me...it is probably not even read by anyone except me anyway...but does that make it any less real? language and reality are so entangled that we become shocked at the concept of sexuality, gender, race, etc. being social constructions and not naturally occurring phenomena. but as i was getting ready to work my mind shifted to how i actually gather information when i am researching. in this age of technological advancement...computers and the act or acts of composing being framed in a type of word processing that tells you when you missspelll a wrod by little red squiggly lines...i am still a hand writer. i usually write my notes and my research out by hand before i start actually composing...for some reason the quotes that i pick and the connections that i am trying to make between concepts or, even, the premises that i am either trying to further or deconstruct don't count because they haven't been placed in a more formal discourse...no one will read these words except me and for some reason i find comfort with this. i can be exposed without judgment like taking a photo without being posed or airbrushed or photo-shopped, etc. my words are beyond the scrutiny of others and my paranoia surrounding my self-perception as a writer and thinker is abated. i think that in a previous life i was one of those monks that copied manuscript in a gothic monastery...for reasons far beyond any understanding of myself...i find this comforting. setting language to page, filling negative space by candlelight and the smell of incense. i guess that's a daydream for another day.