respice, adspice, prospice

i don't like it when it's bright and i am bleary-eyed.
the descreptancy betweent the outside and the inside my head is almost a physical discomfort, like improperly balanced air pressure, i guess that's what they warn against in airplane movies.
beer and whiskey and smokes oh my.
i wonder what i would think of me if i met me on the steet.
once i read something that roger ebert wrote about hamlet, and i really liked it: he said that Hamlet's misfortune was that he was able to express his feelings so clearly, that, once stated, they could be evaded.
that seems to be my flaw a lot of the time as well. in my tendency for intronspection, i sharpen my thoughts against language until every dark undertow is verbalized, every reason is demarcated and there is no room for denials or excuses. maybe that's what's called being too hard on yourself; harshness does not have to lie in agency or approach, just in the default of the method.

and the moral of the story is:  Doubt is the beginning, not the end, of wisdom.