In the immortal words of Scarlett O'Hara, "as god is my witness...," if I ever have free flowing cash again, I am going to buy those lights for people with Seasonal Affective Disorder. Nothing bad or remotely negative (that I can think of) happened today, yet I am bluesy. Didn't eat too much, drink anything, spend much, what? Took my meds. Took my mile walk. Wrote some personal mail. What?
I would rather be depressed and know why than drift in this free-floating anxiety.
Seriously, it might just be the state of the world, which I detailed yesterday. The headlines of the Times look fairly dire. I haven't watched much video from Japan. I'd probably be bedridden with the weight of the world on me if I had.
I was thinking earlier how terrified I was back in 7th or 8th grade when we were told we were going to be writing essays. And here I have assigned myself the task of a short essay every day. I have yet to assign myself a length. I waver on the actual topic. But address myself to the task, I do.
The leftover snow on the north sides of the street has finally melted. As I walked back from the post office and grocery store, I saw the strong shoots of early bulbs, mostly crocus, but some tulip-ish leaves, iris, and daffodils. The crocuses seem most likely to bloom first. Here and there, I saw (ambitious!) flashes of color, white and purple.
People are putting things on the curb again, now that there is room on the sidewalk for furniture and walking. When the snow was piled high, it was single-file, and careful stepping so as not to slip. There were a few items of a nearly tantalizing sort, but I wasn't really in any mood to drag anything home.
There's a very sad house on 11th Street between 6th and 7th. I will never understand how this came to be a good idea, but it was covered in asbestos tile, now falling off in disrepair. The front window was full of religious icons, Jesus, Mary, Infant of Prague, the whole crew, all dusty and faded. The steps had not been shoveled all winter. Today, there was a dumpster out front, a wrecking crew tearing out the house, and a line of religious statuary on the curb in front of the dumpster. I was tempted by the Infant, but I didn't want to cart it around. I picked up a small figurine. I think it is one of the wise men, but then again, it is in bad shape so it could be some kind of monster.
No wise words. No insight beyond, "I need to do sama vritti before bed."
I have been avoiding the news too. But today I finally broken down and watched CNN. The Red Cross has been on my mind and I finally gave them a pittance which was all I could afford right now. Feeling bluesy is normal considering the circumstances of the world. I feel survivor guilt looking at the footage on the news.
ReplyDeleteFunny you should end this essay with the word "monster", as I was thinking, as I read the beginning of this post, to bring up a sweet, silly little kid's book I used to read to my daughter, that we both loved, and that I still think of when the news or my mood is especially bad: "Go Away Big Green Monster!" Silly, yes, but shouting that in my head & picturing all that's bad (especially the stuff we can do little about) as that black and green monster that we can make go away by yelling at it, always seems to help, if only for one silly moment.
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