I'm tired and can't see the eclipse for all the clouds rolling in. That would perhaps be an interesting metaphor if there wasn't an actual eclipse tonight.
My calcium is low and potassium high. I'd rather not know about my blood pressure. I'm crumbling under stress, broke, and out of good ideas. The skin on my fingers is peeling and they hurt too much to indulge in an hour of what I describe as guitar playing.
My eyes are exhausted from a strict diet of non-fiction. My head hurts for reasons I can't pin down. I haven't been getting enough sunlight.
I'm drinking a lot of water and it tastes boring.
Sadly, I'm not experiencing the usual joy I get from a bit of good-natured complaining. Maybe it hasn't been all that good-natured, lately. Consequently, that's another of my complaints.
My laundry is caught up. I only have a few dirty dishes. I got a pretty good haircut this week. There are plenty of groceries in my cupboard. I even smell good at this particular moment. I guess the word for it all is "w00t-w00t!"
But I don't feel "w00t-w00t," inside. I'm not sure I ever have. To be perfectly honest, I don't have any idea what "w00t-w00t" means.
I blog a lot when I'm in a complaining mood and post very little of it. The process is cathartic, but after rattling off a few pages, I feel more run down than when I started. Then it's time to get a few hours of worthless sleep. My flood of words--some of them quite buoyant and entertaining, mind you--never seem worth revisiting when I wake to the next day of complaints.
It could be depression, but I'm the last person who should be spouting off amateur medical diagnoses.
I used to post things pretty willy-nilly. If I wrote something particularly good, I'd tuck it away in a folder somewhere, as to not sully it by tossing it on the world wide waste heap. Everything else, I'd pin up for everyone to thumb their noses at. I figured, "What's the worst that could happen? People take a glance and correctly determine it isn't worth their time to read?"
Now, I don't feel like posting at all. I don't trash much of what I write, but I might as well for all the good it's doing. I'm so hard up for cash, I can't even afford to run it through the printer. I guess it truly is "only worth the paper it's printed on." I'm not so much embarrassed by these pointless diatribes. It's just that every word is a painful reminder of time I should've spent making something of myself.
Now, I'm just being self-pitying.
No. Not really. Apathetic, maybe. I think "bitter" would be too strong a word.
But I'm not going to get into a semantic argument with myself. It's neither the time nor the place (though, in other post I've argued blogs are exactly the right place for such bullshit and defended the mantra that there is no time like the present...though I believe I was writing about the contributions I could make to humanity's gene pool). However, we don't need to revisit these platitudes at the present.
Complaints are usually not worth anyone's time--unless, of course, you have a professional obligation to give them a polite listen before dismissing them. But they are a symptom, inevitably leading to the question, "What's your deal, bro?"
I could offer my stock answer that I need a little cash and a bit of the jet setting lifestyle I could grow accustomed to, but those are just band-aids to cover up the real problems. Not that I'm ripping up checks or turning down invitations to Victoria Secret parties. No, the real problem lies somewhere in my general incompetence, social anxieties, and failure to effectively turn my hopes and dreams into concrete success.
The yes-men I surround myself with have complimented me for years on my considerable talents. Yet, as they can't offer a shred of proof to confirm my athleticism in the bedroom, I consider their glad-handing to be overzealous hyperbole. Love is truly blind, but it doesn't pay the bills.
But back to the eclipse, I was trying to glimpse tonight...
Maybe the point of observing a lunar eclipse is in not seeing the moon. I mean, you're not supposed to see the moon if the light of the sun is completely blotted out, right? Everything is supposed to be bleak and dark.
Yet, I just went outside and could see the shadow moving. A crescent of moonlight has started shining down through the clouds. Things are looking a little brighter. Maybe the real magic of an eclipse is discovered only when the light comes back.
Now, there's a metaphor.
The point is, simple things matter. Keeping yourself involved in the lives of the people you care about, having a little income, and taking care of basic needs are all important. If dreams are a distraction instead of a motivation to help you make your life complete, it's time to get new dreams.
So, yeah. That's the answer. I need some new dreams.
Sheesh. I feel more run down than when I started this thing.
But, hey. I'm not complaining.