- Share This Post
- Pin It
- 1
-
Sparkle (0)
I can't do it anymore. That's what I was saying at 11 AM this morning to the fridge door and to the stereo and to the blue towel in the wet heap---any and all inanimate objects that would listen.
Please tell me you have those days too, 'cause I have them routinely as a mother and as an artist...when everything feels small and grubby and not worth the effort (I paraphrase Jeanette Winterson).
If only there was a local cave to crawl into. But no.
So I turn to food (toast mostly) and analyzing other people's Facebook profiles and superior lives, or wading through the celeb pics on people.com. All soul deadening. Not the acts in and of themselves. The attitude with the acts.
This was my state of mind at 11 AM as I prepared to go for a walk with my sister. On the verge of one such day. The list of things to execute in order to get myself and Elsie out the door looming before me mundane and interminable. Step 25: collect bits of food for Elsie (crackers, okay; apple chunks, not okay, etc.)...Step 37: put clothes on Elsie and then myself...Step 586: redirect Elsie off of the cat as I grab my keys.
Finally the car doors slammed and my butt (and Elsie's butt) in the seat (in her seat). Mirror check. Sigh. Ipod on. My pal, Brian Tracy and his 'change your life methods' suddenly blaring. Gag. I consider throwing my ipod out the window when Brian throws out these zingers first. Successful people take complete responsibility for themselves. Successful people never critique others. And the zinger of zingers. Successful people never complain.
Well, I'll be, BT. Anyway, as if I complain or critique others or generally feel like a victim---okay I do. A lot. Woe is me. A lot. Woe are others and how they make my life hard. A lot. Suddenly I feel small and grubby. Like I have settled for something very low.
I need toast. Where's my computer?
Actually, maybe I can just start again. This time with a clean pair of pants.
