|10:35 am - August creaking to a close|
I'm not used to being restless in body but not in mind, and I've been experiencing that more lately. It doesn't move me to write in the way the reverse usually does (perhaps obviously). It makes it seem like I have even less than usual to mention in my life. Really, how many times can I say wake up, make coffee, talk with the cat, read, eat, take a nap, read, go for a walk, go workout? 365 times in a year, I suppose.
The catalog of details just sounds like me getting old. I'm not that old, but I consider myself old in the sense that I don't ever anticipate being pain-free, physically, in the future. Also, most of my 'service providers' in the daily sense are (or seem) younger than me, as I encounter them: clerks, cashiers, police, local politicians, etc. I'm on the older side of the bus-riding population as I experience it. I get tired (spiritually, physically, mentally) and impatient easily and often, but it seems normal to myself and those around me.
I keep watching other people achieve what I thought were my dreams and realizing I wouldn't have been happy with the results after all. Interesting; handy in a way. The problem that remains, however, is a failure on my part to come up with additional dreams of my own to continue to try. I've put on and taken off a lot of hats over the years, with none really fitting terribly well. I feel like I've exhausted the majority of items in the milliners I'm interested in taking on, but I'd still like a hat of my own. Meanwhile my resources are diminished and diminishing; the price of hats is rising.
Well, I suppose I'll take some small comfort that even if I die dream-less, I'll still be just as dead. Worry-free at last, either way.
Current Mood: not as depressed as this probably sounds