The rushing feeling

I'm having that rushing feeling like life is go by too fast. That I'm not taking advantage of my youth and the years are slipping by. I think it may be a fear affect of stress, since I just had a high stress moment at work. Now that I'm breathing again everything doesn't seem so bad. But the lingering feeling of time wasted is still with me.

I'm still painting and think I may actually keep this one up. I think, for me, I've learned a trick about it. Fake it. I'm not a great painter, maybe not even a good one. But if I fake it, it appears as confidence. I think the phrase is "fake it until you make it." While I was driving home this weekend I was trying to think of what to paint next, and I've decided to do a painting "for me". Which seems like such a novel idea, and so foreign from my usually process.

I woke up Saturday from a strong dream. Most of the story is forgotten by now, but the feeling is still with me. And waking up and being happy it was all a dream is such a new sensation for me. It's like the Prozac dreams of yore had visited me. I'd helped someone get home and had fallen asleep at there place. Then the next morning I went outside and couldn't find my car anywhere. I walked around the neighborhood with my FOB clicking it looking for a response. Only to find two other cars in a garage that responsed to my clicks but weren't my car. I was then forced to scrape up bus fare to make trek home so I could report it stolen. "no good deed goes unpunished"? That wasn't my first thought, but I guess it fits. I think it was more a feeling of being alone. This dream being only slightly better than one days before where I was giving myself different math problems to solve.