* and no, I didn’t drink all that last night. I’m no Lucille Bluth. C’mon!
I was very tired and so didn’t accomplish much. I felt a bit, you know, pointless. So it’s weird that this is the photo that jumped out at me from Morguefile.com when I went cruising for photos. But somehow these pointy-headed mannequins capture my mood.
Two positive notes regarding today:
This old Get Fuzzy strip does not represent any personal animosity toward poets.
Rather, it’s more a statement on my current state of mind.
Specifically, my desire to punch something.
Although, stabbing would be equally therapeutic.
As Zebu would say, “Mom’s feeling a little stabby today.”
“Stabby and punchy.”
Shouldn’t there be a t-shirt or bumpersticker?
Thoughtful and slightly wary. Ready to take flight should the need arise.
This is NOT me.
image from morguefile.com
The photo, however, represents how I feel right now.
Just one week ago I was a weepy little mess as I struggled to learn Scrivener.
Today I’m thrilled to announce I understand the basics of this writing software,
AGNES by Tony Cochran
In my family, pie also works for Sad, Glad, and I-Think-I’ve-Been-Had issues.
I love roller coasters.
But I also panic at the thought of roller coasters.
I’m feeling those same mixed emotions as I prepare to embark on this revision.
I’m thrilled at the thought of finally creating the book I’d intended
but also a bit nervous about what I might experience along the way.
I know there will be thrills and spills.
And undoubtedly this revision will involve some screaming
and white knuckles.
Followed by more screaming.
Let’s just hope I don’t ever wet myself,
not even a little bit.
Okay, here goes . . .
The sky is gray.
The temperature is below average.
The sun is nowhere to be seen.
I’m feeling something today.
It makes no sense.
And I’m almost afraid to admit all this.
But I’m going with the optimism.
EDITED TO ADD: The sun just came out. Hooray!
It’s been one of those weeks.
A week-long funk.
Yesterday I felt crushed under the weight of it all.
But I forced myself to spin my hoop
while Zippy did his treadmill workout.
As we twirled and walked, we listened to an album that came out 25 years ago.
And I thought about where I was 25 years ago.
I remembered listening to that album (tape) in my car during lunch hour
when I worked for Giant Turd Enterprise (GTE).
I’d eat my fish sandwich from McDonald’s
and think about, well, I don’t remember what I thought about.
Probably not much.
Maybe I thought about the sweltering parking lot and
how my boss was the world’s biggest asshat.
Or that maybe the next day I should pack a lunch.
Fast forward to this week
in which I’ve had feelings of being that gerbil in a wheel,
always running and moving,
but never getting ahead.
It’s no fun feeling that way.
It crushes your spirit.
So I say to myself:
Tracy, you have made progress.
For one, you’re no longer spending time in a paint-peeling ’64 Ford Falcon Sprint,
sweating and ingesting questionable food.
And you don’t have to answer to that horrible boss-man ever again.
Give up the funk, Tracy.