My Vein, My Blood – 7


I don’t know what’s wrong with me.  I seem to have no gumption.  I took a nap but seem to have no energy and no interest in doing much of anything.  Maybe I shouldn’t have pursued M’s invite to dinner.  But I had going out all planned!  I was looking forward to it.  When’s the last time I went out mid-week?  It’s been eons.  I barely have the energy to write.  I wonder if I can have a beer later?  Where do we go that I enjoy a beer?  Iguana Mia.  Beer and chips.  So much for no carbs in the evening. J  Hey I was good at lunch.  Spinach salad.  I think I need to go look at the calendar.


Why don’t I take better care of my body?  If I’m striving to be the best me I can be why don’t I have more respect for the house where my spirit dwells?  Am I lazy?  It’s disrespectful of myself, isn’t it to not exercise and not overeat and eat unhealthy food?


What if I’m turning into S?  What if I lack the self-discipline required to finish Phantom?  What if I just squander my time playing Spider Solitaire instead of writing?  And then I die and it never gets done?  That would be really sad, wouldn’t it?


I had a dream last night.  Like a romance novel.  It wasn’t really me.  But in the dream I was being wooed by a man.  We were riding in the back of the car.  I turn to look out the back window.  I crook my arm around his neck and so half of my front is pressed to his chest.  He’s warm and hard and guy-like.  He doesn’t do anything (because I’ve been resisting his advances).   But I woke up with the memory of how it felt to have him there, the heat and the hardness and the comfort of being pressed against him.  Geez, this is depressing.  How long since I’ve been pressed up against a man like that?  Since a man’s shown any interest in me at all?  I’m lonely for that.  I think I’d have been so good in a relationship if I’d married a man who was interested in me.  But I didn’t.  I married someone who ignores me just like my parents did.  I’m just as lonely as I was during my childhood.  There’s no comfort here.  I’m just this boring clump of nothing beneath everyone’s notice.  And God knows what B isn’t getting from me.  He’d never say.  Probably doesn’t know or want to know.  Yet he’s been excessively generous on many occasions. He isn’t evil.  I just want things he’s incapable of providing and probably vice versa.  How can you attempt to give someone what they need when they don’t know what they need and certainly couldn’t express it to you?


I am totally without motivation to do anything.  Laundry.  That’s about all I can handle.  Can I blame it on hormones?  Or a migraine?  Yesterday I was thinking that I’m not passionate about anything.  I used to be about writing.  Have I lost my enthusiasm?  Am I just beaten down by life?  All I’ve done the past two days is read and sleep and eat.  I didn’t write.  Couldn’t get my head into it.  Do I think it’s pointless?  Yet I can’t give it up completely.  Maybe I need a break.  Too many people taking little pieces of me away.  D feels tense like I do.  Like she never relaxes.  Maybe that’s part of the grieving process.  Sometimes I just think “screw it.”  But other times I feel like I should be working at writing really hard or I’ll run out of time.  I’ll be 48!  I guess that’s not so old.  But think what I could have accomplished by now if I’d had more drive and focus.  More passion.  Sustained passion?  I can’t even say that.  When I’m in the zone I am passionate.  I get excited seeing a story unfold almost under its own power as the characters develop.  Maybe I should start journaling again every day.  Just make myself do it because it did seem to help me creatively.  When I first was on The Artist’s Way program.  Then I got away from it.  And now I feel mired in crap.  I felt the forced journaling helped me get rid of the crap.


Hurricanes are just boring.  For people like me anyway who live where you get the fallout but not the actual event.  The power goes out, that’s the main reason it’s boring.  You can’t even watch the progress of the storm on TV.  It’s too dark to read almost, even if you could concentrate on a book.  You don’t want to waste your flashlight batteries.  This is Charley which is a lot closer to us than Andrew was.  But with Andrew we were without power all day and we had a lot of wind and a tree across the street blew down.  The kids went outside and played on it.  So, no work.  No power.  Don’t flush toilet.  Can’t cook—until it’s okay to use the grill anyway unless B hooks up the generator and it actually works.  Then we could use the microwave and I think the fridge would work.  Can’t recall what else. Maybe the TV but cable’s probably out anyway.  Guess I should put my watch on so at least I’d know what time it is.  Well, it’s a day off with pay so I shouldn’t complain.  And I don’t think our house will blow down or anything.  It is raining though and lots of wind.