Thursday, September 18, 2008

The Blahs

Sometimes my creative life hits a hump.

When we were kids, my stepmother told us that there is no such thing as being "bored." That there is always something that can be done. And if we couldn't think of anything to do, she could.

At my mom's house, we had the entire outdoors to play in. (Although usually my sister and I were indoors reading, but occasionally we would go outdoors and read; I particularly liked to read in a tree that had wonderful branches like a recliner. We weren't really the rollicking type, more of the dress up and pretend to be brides type, though we did ride bicycles up and down the road.) We were always busy with one thing or another: reading (there it is again), painting, cutting out pictures from the Sears catalog (that is a story for another day).

So, here I am, living alone, with this industrious history, and I feel... bored.

It's shocking, really. I have more hobbies than anyone I know. I like to knit, to paint, to draw, to sew, to read, to write, to tear paper with my dog.

But I get home and I look at all of the opportunities available to me, and I think, "blah."

The last few nights I've thought about reading but sat on the couch and watched television instead. This is particularly nice since the sun is going down earlier and it is getting cooler. The dog always seems to cuddle more this time of year, and this makes me lethargic, too.

Maybe this is the winter of my discontent?

No, I'm not discontent. Or unhappy. Actually, I'm quite happy enjoying non-productive things like: soaking in the bathtub until the water goes cold, watching television., petting the dog.

Maybe not so blah after all -- I mean those things are good things, right? And, well, blah or not, I'm blogging about it.

But I wanted to notify any readers, in case you were expecting great things. Expect nothing. Then you (and I) will be happily surprised together.

(And I refuse to hear any suggestions, especially along the lines of my stepmother's: no toilet cleaning, no dusting, no vacuuming, no Windex. In case you had one. Please keep it to yourself.)


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