Labeling my Moods and Missteps

I’ve spent the last hour-and-something trying to put a label on how I feel, how I’ve been feeling for the past few days. Bored? Lazy? Hopeless? Depressed? I can’t put a finger on my restless mood and the longer it goes on the more frustrated I'm getting with myself. Woo-is-me! If you're looking for a happy-little-widow post pass this one by and stop back when I'm in a better mood.

BORED. Actor Viggo Mortensen was quoted in Vanity Fair as saying, “There’s no excuse to be bored. Sad, yes. Angry, yes. Depressed, yes, Crazy, yes. But there’s no excuse for boredom, ever.” Easy for him to say. Just reading through his list of movie credits makes me tired---over thirty including Crimson Tide, G.I. Jane, Walk on the Moon, and The Lord of the Rings series. He's also an artist, poet and photographer. How does a person manage to stuff so many things into one life time? Where does that kind of energy come from? I know what he means, though. He’s saying that there’s a whole world of interesting things out there. Grab on to something, explore it, and the awe and inspiration will follow. Okay, if I’m not allowed to be bored, then am I lazy?

LAZY. I admit I waste a lot of time. I spend several hours each morning on the computer and I don’t budge from that until mid-to-late morning when I shower for my afternoon appointments, social engagements, errands or tasks around the house. I end my day the same way---my fingers on the keyboard, my ears half listening to the television. If Levi, my mighty Schnauzer, wasn’t of stubborn German descent he’d probably never get fed; I get so lost in inside my head that I forget things without him and my handy kitchen timer to keep me on track. He knows his schedule and he holds me to it: 10:00 AM outside for his morning eliminations, fresh food and water at 11:00, dental stick snack at 4:00 and walk at 7:00. I swear he tells time by the program intros coming from the television. Judge Judy? Oh, boy, it's time for a Milkbone brushing chew!  

Playwright and novelist Paul Rudnick once said, “As a writer, I need an enormous amount of time alone. Writing is 90 percent procrastination: reading magazines, eating cereal out of the box, watching infomercials. It's a matter of doing everything you can to avoid writing, until it is about four in the morning and you reach the point where you have to write.” Hey, Paul, can I use that excuse for me being lazy? Most of my computer time is spent reading, researching and posting at various sites before I get around to ramble writing my blog posts late at night. If I can borrow Paul’s procrastination excuse, then ‘lazy’ is not a label I need to wear. What’s left---hopelessness? Depression?

HOPELESSNESS. When Macbeth found out the queen was dead he mumbled a passage that essentially says there is no purpose or meaning in life: “Life is a tale, told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing.” Shakespeare might have been a smart guy but that doesn't make all his words sage or true. However, in this case I do wonder why I’m here, what’s my purpose? Why do I often feel like I’m just filling up time waiting for something? Jeez, I need to set my sails, shake things up. I’ve been thinking about going back to water aerobics at the YMCA or yoga at the senior hall. I don’t get enough exercise. I don’t like the weight I’ve gained since the beginning of the year and that does not add to my happiness coffer. More importantly, I have no muse which begs the question: Do I have no muse because I'm restless or am I restless because I have no muse? And why can’t I give myself the same kind of approval and praise I used to get from all the dead people in my life? Have I spent my entire life just being a Pavlovian Dog responding to conditional stimulus?

DEPRESSION. Melissa Cole (and I have no idea who she is and Google isn’t any help sorting through all the Melissa Cole’s on earth) wrote, “I feel like I’m in the ocean with big waves and small waves, just trying to keep my head above water and not drown — but the waves come and go and I’m alone without a life preserver trying to stay afloat.” I found that quote on a site that says it lists the twenty-five best descriptions of depression. And nope, I’m happy to report I don’t feel like that. I feel more like a dinghy adrift in that ocean; I can see Paradise Island on the horizon but I lost the paddle needed to help get me there. So, I’m back to square one: I'm restless without a label to explain it! It didn't help that I've had four days in a row with no place to go and nothing that needed doing except to clean the garage which I’ve been avoiding because it’s a heat stroke zone.

Thankfully today I have a haircut appointment with a 28 year old kid who gets the same memos as I do with bullet points on what topics to discuss. She may be young but we have a lot in common. And tomorrow I’m going to an ice cream social. Three cheers for hot fudge sundaes with nuts and cherries on top! Maybe I’ll luck out and someone will spill chocolate on her blouse and I’ll be able to whip a Wipe & Go out of my purse to save her day. Ding! Yup, that little bit of praise I'd get for that would have me salivating and happy. Levi and I have way too much in common. ©