My head is a small bucket. My thoughts are water in the bucket, my train of thought is the string holding the bucket while my life is my arm swinging the string 'round and 'round. I want my thoughts to make some sense, to get some new ground and make everything clear to me. But the forces are against me.

First the whole system had to overcome gravity to get moving, some of the water spilled because the kinetic forces weren't evened out yet. But the centrifuge is working nicely now. Of course everything wants to go its separate direction, none of which is in the direction that I want to go. And my arm is beginning to get tired.

The centripetal forces keep everythin at one pace, but, concequently also make it dengerous to change the pace. Changing the pace is almost inherent to changing the direction, so thus I've barely changed the direction on anything in a while.

My arm is beginning to burn.

I'm tired, I'm begining to get rope burns and I keep jabbing my elbow into my side.

I try to please all forces and make a critical mistake.

I give more slack to the bucket so that the circle it travels in will grow. But I don't match the rate of velocity and an arch warps the string. Slowly the arch works its way to the bucket causing it to slip just enough on its upward trajectory that it kicks the complacent water over the lip. The water caught in the grip of gravity, contrifugal forces completely forgot, tip the bucket from its invisible hold causing it to lose its contents moments before it comes crashing down.

I get a little wet, and I forget what I was going to say.

Oh well.

At least there is alway this.