Is There A Pill for This? Or an App?

So what have I been doing? Nothing.

My bedroom is a mess. So is my mind. And probably every other part of me.

I’m sure I’ve done something wrong in my life to get here. I don’t believe in fate, but it doesn’t feel like I am where I’m supposed to be. I can’t go into more detail, because I really don’t know how to explain it.

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I come up with anywhere from one to five blog post topics a day, split between this site and The No-Recipe Life, my lifestyle/food/everything else platform. I’m sure some of them are not really worth the time, but I’ve never said I wanted either blog to be perfect, and anyway, that would be a fruitless endeavor. Other posts seem like excellent ideas and I feel that I have thoughts in that area that are worth sharing. If only one other person appreciates my words–or even if no one but me appreciates them–it’s enough to be worth my time.

Lately, I have sat down and typed out none of these ideas. I’m sure many of them are now gone forever. I will never have that idea again. Out of all the possible posts that might have happened, only a few would have really contributed anything notable. But now they never will, and that should make the world just the slightest bit sad.

I’ve been really busy lately. Ok, not really busy. Really stressed. Blogging fell by the wayside, as they say (they being people who use cliches a lot, and me, apparently), because my creative impulses were very low for a while. I can barely feel them even now, but there are times when you have to decide to do something regardless. I have a lot of things to get in order before I can come back to blogging with any regularity, and I’m only starting to make a plan to get things figured out. Not that I ever expect to figure things out… but at least I can attempt to bring some organization to my life.

 

Even though I’m not feeling optimistic about anything, I still have to try. It’s definitely not ideal. It makes motivation very hard to find, for anything.

Wow, I wish this post didn’t sound so depressing. If I’m lucky this will purge some of these feelings from my mind and I will start to do better…

Melan-Kali

Some days you feel the weight more than others. The phrase is usually “a weight on the heart/soul.” Wherever this metaphysical burden is resting, you feel it in your body. It’s painful. You want to run wild and lie still at the same time, pull on your hair or scratch at your skin.

I’m restless. Calm is becoming a distant memory, near-constant anxiety taking its place. But I did fall asleep last night.

I’ve heard that people are in life just where they want to be. People have what they want to have. I think that’s very true and also very untrue. Like Nature Vs. Nurture. Why does one preclude the other?

“Don’t you want good things?” Yes, I want good things. I want all good things and happiness and peace.

“Art comes from pain.” I can write from the memory of it just as well as from a current experience. Better, perhaps – more intention in the writing with some distance from the feeling.

 

I wanted to look up the roots and origination of the word “melancholy,” but you need a membership for the OED. Or a physical copy – good luck with that one…

Virginia Woolf, one of the greatest writers of all time, killed herself. She walked into the ocean with stones in her pockets. She had a thing about the ocean. Wrote a book, called it The Waves. It was about people, actually, about experience? Or about struggling. One of the characters died. I can’t remember how.

Who is responsible for all of this? Higher powers, with names or without them? An old man in the sky? Or, much more realistically, a power the form of which is not even remotely like human? Is it fate, or chance? Is it me?

Is it?

If it is… is that the weight?