Getting nothing done today
Much as I’m loathe to use my space on the net as a never ending array of bitching and seeking of pity, I guess sometimes, that’s what I’m inclined to do. In spite of the fact that I’m more blessed than probably 90% of my fellow human beings who do not even have the ability to complain, owing to lack of house, computer, internet access or health good enough, about the things that easily trump my teeny concerns, I still complain and somehow feel like I’m justified to do it. I don’t know what I think complaining will get done, except maybe the act of writing can ease the psychological pressure a little when I’m feeling overwhelmed.
About two hours before I left work yesterday, I got this little headache, which by the time I left, became an astounding headache. By the time I got home, I was feeling godawful sick, and while I tried to eat something, I didn’t get all that far. It was all I could do to swallow a couple Tylenol and go to bed for an hour and a half. While I was lying there half comatose, I swear I heard Suzanne typing away in the next room–an entirely impossible feat, considering she was at a conference across town. I remember thinking that I should check who in the heck was in my house using the computer, but I couldn’t bring myself to get up. It was surreal.
When I finally came out of my stupor some 85 minutes later, I felt all fuzzy and strange, and that feeling is still with me. The headache is this shadow pain that’s just sorta lingering around, and I can’t seem to focus on any damned thing. I just don’t care today. It probably would have been better if I’d stayed in bed and done nothing but listen to the rain fall. Alas, I need to live life I guess.
In the time between waking and going back to bed last night, I wrote. I had yet to inform my journal about the selling of mom’s house and all the things that went with it. It’s a lot to write, and taking multiple days to get through. I hope I can find the time and space to finish tonight. But as I sat there in the light of two candles (which was about all I could handle–some days, I hate these LCDs) sipping my chamomile ginger blend tea, I found my centre again. I really love to sit in the dark and write. I love to listen to good music on the stereo and just put thoughts down on paper with ink. I have this feeling that if I really did have to lose everything, or most everything, that my exorbitant life currently offers, and if I had to pare down to the essentials… well, I think the essentials would be shelter and food (and good tea), journal and pen, books to read, and nice music to listen to. Somehow, I think if I had that, while I may jones to the point of pain for my computer and electronic wonderland, I would stay sane. I would live.
But then, the computer was waiting in the other room, sorta saying “you’ll be back” in its silent, smug, assured sort of way. And, it’s right. It is easy to feel like I lack for nothing and could give it all up when everything is around me just waiting on my decision to use it. One does not need to want what one has. Still some part of me is drawn to the romanticized idea of a simple room, with only the essentials that I need which would then receive all of my attention, because I’d have more attention to give. It wouldn’t be divided amongst all the endless possessions and things going on. In some world, some reality, I think I’d have made an excellent monk.
Alas, the world got me, and its hooks go deep. Beyond just my social and financial realities, they go into my psyche. It’s tough to work with that, so I get swept along.
I guess I should get sweeping again. Lunch is done. Perhaps I can be of some worth today as long as the pain stays at bay, and I can stay awake.
Tags: complaining, self-analysis, spirituality