Hey people. This will be ~one of those~ posts. I feel like I'm on the brink of changes (again). I feel like I'm suddenly looking around and realizing a lot of changes have already taken place. At times I feel capable of anything, and other times just... depleted. (Hmm. This does not sound exactly new come to think of it.)
Practically, I have a ton of work to get done in the next two months. What I have to do is just keep marching forward, and really, this is probably the best thing for me anyway-- to become too busy to get mired in self-doubt.
Here's a shot of my new running shoes. Aren't they pretty??? They didn't stay this pristine, but that's okay.
Someone else I know talked about defining moments recently. This has been on my mind a lot. I've lost a couple things over the last year that were sort of main ingredients for a while-- my writing, and that raging flame of wildness that was burning almost out of control for a couple years.
The writing was very strange to lose. I became so immersed in it. I spent every waking moment thinking about it when not doing it. When I ran through the woods I had a story playing in my head. When I was with others I had a hard time concentrating because my thoughts would drift to my story. I felt like at my core, a writer was really what I WAS. Then I needed a break.
And now I feel I've lost it. I haven't forgotten how. I could still string words together in nice ways, even, perhaps, interesting ways. But to tell stories effectively, they need a visceral component to them-- high stakes, and now I don't feel I have anything to say that has that behind it. I've lost the feeling of urgency towards life & death situations. Now I'm complacent on that. I don't feel anything is really that pressing. We're all going to die. It's just a matter of how and when, and that's fine. It's all going to be okay people.
Life is a life & death situation, and it's all going to be fine. :) Hysterics over that is just unnecessary drama. See? Hard to write a story without drama.
The wild feeling, what I called the spinning clockwork, because I felt like there were gears spinning out of control in my chest, like I was about to jump out of my skin and there was NO WAY my body could possibly contain the amount of energy that needed to be vented off--- has subsided. I know what it was, knew it while it was happening too, but that didn't make it any less real.
I felt the exact same way when I was a teen, and to a less extent in my early 20's. I'm blaming hormones. I've heard they mess with you big time in your forties. While the wild feeling was in me, it felt sort of self-destructive because you know that level of near-mania isn't sustainable or normal, but at the same time you really don't want it to end. It's isolating, but you still nurture it because it feels like your own personal wild animal inside you have to feed and protect.
Now it's gone, and while I recognize it's way healthier to not need to listen to metal all the time, like, in the shower too, and not to feel like you want to go run through the woods in the middle of the night or like your chest is about to split open... part of you has departed. I recognize it's healthier to feel relaxed, and to have that knowing inside that everything-- like BIG everything, is fine. But part of me misses the wild animal. I don't want it back, because it was never satisfied, and feeling restless all the time was exhausting, but--- who am i now? Am I boring now?
I have big ambitions to start a new business, but they are on hold because of work. I need to create a show for Sept, and it needs to be 3-D. I feel like working 2-D. But being forced may be really good for me right now. I'm going to just keep marching-- get busy.
Oh-- and later today I'm totally kayaking in my bikini-- so suck on that old age.