Why is it that when I’m sweeping all this dried mud up off the floor or scraping crusted toothpaste off the sink, there are whole paragraphs wandering through my mind (each of them Pulitzer worthy, of course), but on this Sunday afternoon I sit in front of the keys with nothing but the mundane on my mind? When life consists only of the mundane, there I am poetic, but when I have time to record my musings for posterity, then I am…bleak.
The sky outside is bleak, releasing huge splattering raindrops from time to time. And life these past few days has been bleak. I keep finding myself pondering patterns. How we set them, and carry them out without even realizing it, how we try to change those patterns, but they sneak back when we’re not paying attention.
Sometimes you feel powerless to change.
There’s hope, though. I lost 8 pounds since January, and I’ve only gained 4 back. And tomorrow’s another day, another day to set new patterns, to change my course.
Motivation has been on my mind a lot, too. I question why I do what I do. Did I take that soup to friends last week because I wanted to help them, or because I want them to like me? Ah, some of it is sneaking back…this idea that I don’t trust people to like me on their own…I almost feel like I have to manipulate them (by doing things for them, etc) to like me. And it makes me wonder…is it them I don’t trust, or me? Maybe I don’t trust myself to be likeable.
There are days where I stand, confident, in a newfound feeling that I don’t care what you think of me, whether I fit into the mold you think I should fill or not. Those are the good days.
Today isn’t one of them.