Although it’s only the eighteenth day of the month and new year, I feel like it’s been eighteen months since I wrote A Still Mind.
A bunch of things have happened that set me back. Without getting into any detail, all I can say that it has been a frustrating three weeks and my head feels heavy with all the rattling of loose, broken parts.
The intention of forming good habits has had some detours. First, let’s go over the postive: I continue to write in my journal every morning; I am not hanging around the virtual water cooler as much; and I continue to work on weaning myself from email.
Now the bad: I am still eating too much pork; I bought an entire package of cookies and binged. I lapsed on the exercise; I ate far too much sodium rich Chinese food to set me back at least two weeks in my quest to reach my monthly weight loss goal. Lastly, and I think this is the most important, I am still avoiding Julius and other writing projects.
I feel like I’ve been on a losing streak in a Monopoly game and have picked up the orange Chance card that says, “Go Directly to Jail. Do Not Pass Go. Do Not Collect $200.” Now that the most recent unpleasant activities are out of the way and no longer take any space in that gray matter inside my skull, it should be time to get back on track with or without the 200 bucks.
Notice that the operative word is should in the paragraph above. And yet here I am sitting in my robe and pajamas not wanting to do anything at all.
Although my posts take on an insouciant tone and it seems like I make lemonade out of lemons (by the way, I hate that expression). The reality is that I usually go to a very dark place. To keep the Monopoly analogy, I’m in solitary confinement or in “the hole.” But usually the few hours that I’m in this hell hole that’s when all the gears, cogs, wheels in my head turn, when the logistics of Plans B through Z get worked out. Once I’m satisfied I have some sort of fail safe I emerge from that place, this might be hard to believe, energized and ready to take on the bulls in the joint. But this time the guards really did a number on me. The gears, wheels, cogs are broken and I don’t think the replacement parts are coming any time soon.
I realized I’m getting heavy-handed with the prison drama metaphor, but I feel pretty crummy. It might take me longer to get out of this funk and get back to my sardonic observations. But don’t worry, I have no plans to use the sheets as a noose (there aren’t any in the hole) or any kitchen utensils to hurt myself (meals are watery soup that you drink from a plastic cup. I’m more likely to die from thirst because the soup is too salty).
Seriously, though, 45 minutes on the elliptical and I’ll snap out of it (unless I don’t die from a massive stress-induced heart attack). So for now I bid you all a good weekend. Don’t worry, I’ll be fine. I know I’ll have something to write about on Monday of what I’ve managed to learn during these crappy eighteen days.