I feel good today, even though I feel a bit ill. I got up and went to uni only to find that classes weren't on. So that was a bit of a waste of time, really, that I could have better spent staying in bed catching up on the sleep I've been missing recently.
Today is a day to be frivolous, particularly because I am focussing too hard on trying to do today well. It's the first day of my weekend, I've got creative stuff I want to catch up on and housework and friends and parents to see and yada yada yada and I'm focussing too intently on it all and so therefore, after I come back from the back cracker, I'm gonna sit me outside in the sun and read a novel. It feels counter-intuitive. But I'm knowing myself enough to know that often the times when I'm most intent on stressedly getting stuff done is actually a weird manifestation of the fact that I haven't been indulging my creativity enough. And I haven't. How strange. What mixed up strands of blobby stuff go on inside of us. Feels so messy and so unfixable and unredeemable. But only from this side of the court.
Frivolous. Tastes good :) Dispels the anxiety voices clamouring for me to treat my life like it's an Excel spreadsheet. Might write me some poetry, even. The ultimate frivolousness. Anything to shut those goddamned bloody voices up *grrrr*
Today is a day to be frivolous, particularly because I am focussing too hard on trying to do today well. It's the first day of my weekend, I've got creative stuff I want to catch up on and housework and friends and parents to see and yada yada yada and I'm focussing too intently on it all and so therefore, after I come back from the back cracker, I'm gonna sit me outside in the sun and read a novel. It feels counter-intuitive. But I'm knowing myself enough to know that often the times when I'm most intent on stressedly getting stuff done is actually a weird manifestation of the fact that I haven't been indulging my creativity enough. And I haven't. How strange. What mixed up strands of blobby stuff go on inside of us. Feels so messy and so unfixable and unredeemable. But only from this side of the court.
Frivolous. Tastes good :) Dispels the anxiety voices clamouring for me to treat my life like it's an Excel spreadsheet. Might write me some poetry, even. The ultimate frivolousness. Anything to shut those goddamned bloody voices up *grrrr*
Sounds to me like a novel in the sun is just the thing. You have my permission to take care of yourself. :)
ReplyDeleteDoesn't it feel ridiculous that we have to give ourselves permission to do the things we really need to do? How bizarre that whole thing is. I don't think I'll ever come to terms with it.
ReplyDeleteI did go and read in the sun for a bit but it was too cold out there. Sat out there with a blanket like I was 85 years old :)
No, it's too chilly so instead I"m gonna go and be even more indulgent and go to bed in the middle of the day :)