The Ground and the Flurry
For those of you who don't know, I live in Northeast Kansas, USA. It is now the second day of March. I had to cancel plans to play D&D with my brother's gaming group because it's going to snow tonight. Again. The temperature is already plummeting. Again. While this meteorological phenomenon isn't unheard of this late in the year in my region, this year's winter here has been noticeably more cruel and bitter than in previous years. And it won't f***ing go away.
Now one might think that as a writer the cold and snow would be comparatively beneficial. The strong motivation to stay indoors should be a boon to someone who should be planted in front of a computer keyboard, right? You would think. The reality is that cabin fever is kicking in pretty hard in these parts. (Probably a bit of Vitamin D deficiency as well.) The constant cold and achiness, the painful freeze in the hands and feet, the inability (or inconvenience/hazard) to leave the house, it's all taking its toll.
Depression has set in. Everything is irritating me a little bit more. I'm angry and frustrated all the time right now. While this may be a powerful creative force for somebody who does visual art or possibly music, this is a terrible place to write from. If you've ever been in an argument with somebody (or studied deescalation methods) you know that language based communication disintigrates rapidly during an agitated state. Words disappear. Thoughts get jumbled. All that is left is the anger and frustration, the empty feelings, the hurt. There is no room left for creative energy involving linguistics.
In my case we'll add the fact that every time I sit down at the computer, lately, my bastard cat comes into the room, starts yowling at me, clawing at me, and beating his head against my legs. He doesn't do this at any other time during the day or night, just when I sit down to work at the computer. Every f***ing time I sit down at the computer. This isn't a friendly "Hello" either. It's a fullblown attention seeking tantrum and it doesn't f***ing stop no matter what I do. Add to this the fact that I've been set on a default angry/frustrated mode for the past two weeks and I manage to last about 10 minutes before I hit the point of "F**k it all!" and shut everything down again just to get away from it.
Apparently it's not enough that I can't leave town for more than a few hours. Now I'm not allowed to work from home either. So sayeth the cat. Thank God I'm single and childless. I can't tell a cat no. I'd hate to imagine how much I'd be walked over by other people.
All of this is to say, I'm sick of winter. Nothing has been done with my book all week. I'm tired of feeling trapped and directionless. I'm tired of feeling angry all the time. I'm...I'm just tired. Of everything. In fact, I'm tired of writing this. It's mopey and depressing. It's not particularly entertaining. I'm going to post it, but I'm not going to promote it because its become clear to me that nobody wants to read about my bad days, my excuses, me not making progress on....well, much of anything currently. You're sick of it, I'm sick of it, we're all pretty f***ing sick of it. At this point, I'm posting this for my reference and because I made a promise to myself to stay on top of this weekly Blog. There's no words of wisdom here, no insight, no creative guidance. I've got nothing left to offer right now. Check back later.
