It’s one of those days where something needs to happen.
I’m restless as hell despite an impending deadline which I’m not going to meet if I can’t get myself together.
A day when something is pushing down on my chest and I don’t know how to respond – one minute I want to laugh, another, to cry, another to hit something and another to just go out and get what it is that’s missing.
Every few minutes I stand up and wander about the place, listlessly opening and shutting cupboards in the hope that whatever it is I want will spring out at me and I can grab it, then settle down and get something done.
It’s not working. Whatever it is I need is not here. Not in this house. Not today.
My son is gone with his Papa, but that’s not it either. He’s having a fun few hours playing trains and is having a better time there than he would have had here with me this afternoon. I’m pleased about that.
Nope, there’s something else.
The weather stinks which could be a factor. I’ve not seen such a consistent deluge of rain in what seems to be years. That is getting to me, I have to confess. When it rains, the apartment is relatively dark. I think I’m a mild SAD sufferer, but again, I don’t think that’s the cause of today’s jitters.
I envy true artists. The painter would throw down everything at this moment and would shut himself in a room for the next week or so, emerging with an emotive masterpiece into which he had invested all his doubt and longing; the musician would write a song and the writer would produce a work of pure beauty and analytical metaphor …
I just brain-dump on what I think everyone else would do, feel as empty and as unfulfilled as I did when I started and have presented myself with another reason to feel rubbish, given that I have just indulged in yet another half hour of meaningless procrastination.
So no solutions here.
Back to work then.
Same old, same old ….