When I was a kid we would take long drives in the country or we'd pack up the Winnebago for a family vacation. Whichever it was (a Saturday on a tank of gas or a week driving cross-country) inevitably I would stare out the window and watch the pavement zoom past underneath us.
It became my own little silent game. I would concentrate on not allowing my eyes to focus on a specific spot. The asphalt and painted lines became a blur and raced beneath me in black velvet trimmed with yellow satin. It was a beautiful thing, but it would only last for a few seconds. My eyes would invariably catch a glimpse of something and I would lose my concentration and have to start over.
These days my whole life is a blur; I can't seem to focus on anything. Distracted? Probably. But not in a bad sense. Mostly the thing I need to concentrate on (homework and studying) isn't what I want to think about. I want to clear my mind of all the things I need to do and relax, enjoy, wonder, dream . . . but it only lasts a few moments; I lose my concentration and have to start over