Title: Compulsion

December 09, 2006

Not much for words these days. Feeling very withdrawn and introverted, much more so than usual, which is why I've been making silly entries about cats rather than anything of remote substance. It's difficult, after all, to ponder the truly important things in life, like your navel, when all you want is take a long, solitary walk in the rain or drive aimlessly for hours through the still of night.

I've been doing a great deal of that lately, night driving and rain walking, lost in my own world and not caring much for the company of others. It doesn't provide much fodder to write about, but the peacefulness does me ample more good than semantic conjugation. Pregnancy loss, birthday angst, holiday stress, family psychosis, it was all adding up and the jumble of stress was starting to sound like the incessant buzz of tv static turned to high volume inside my head. Ordinarily that leads to depression, or deepening thereof, but the usual path to despair got switched up and changed around, and my mind set course for solitude instead.

No gloom or doom or misery, just the search for peace and quietude, and in rare moments when the demon upstairs is not screaming, the cars outside are not screeching, the tv is not blathering, and Ross is softly snoring, I find that solitude. Like this week, in its rare reprieve, all has been quiet on my own western front, allowing me to stop, drop, and watch the clouds roll by through the window of my own imagination. Sumptuously I've been reminded that my mind is good for more than just pragmatic feats and with logic put to sleep, fragile dreams creep out to show their face and breath new life once more.

This stillness, this inward drive, it may not make me the life of the party but, trust me, inside I'm dancing the conga and wearing a lamp shade on my head. Which is a good thing, by the way, especially since life will undoubtedly soon return to its regularly scheduled program of "arrrgh!" By which I mean that it will become stressful again, not that I'm about to turn into a pirate.

listening: depeche mode . reading: native sons

walk: 60 minutes . weight lost: zero pounds 


HOME  |  ARCHIVES