I will let the sad, sad picture above do my talking for me!
Except that I will also blog at length and expound on my sorrows!
Yes. My vacation ends today. How can that be??? I know – you don’t really care about my plight because “going back to work” means that I work all of 25 hours a week at an indescribably easy job. And yet…
It still torments me that I must return.
I’ve gotten some great writing done, and some not so great writing done, but at least a lot more words are down on a lot more pages than were in existence before my 5 days off began. (I’m including today, which I am guessing will yield additional new words on additional new pages.)
Yesterday kind of sucked because not only did I wait for hours in expectation of the conference call with Sandra in NYC that never materialized (even though I was still at my desk writing the entire time, I hate when something is hanging around in my mental space while I’m trying to write; i.e., the spectre of an upcoming conference call that just vanishes into thin air and no one replies to my texts that say, “where are you??”).
Anyway, also, yesterday, I discovered that my garden hose spigot, which has been problematic off & on since the spring began, suddenly decided to start spewing water and refused to be turned off. Right away, I thought: Crap! How long has this been happening? A fucking enormous water bill is looming on my horizon…
But, luckily, I texted Diane and she deemed my text worthy of replying to! She was actually somewhere in a reasonable vicinity of Muskingum County, so she stopped over last evening and FIXED it for me.
Plus, she hung out at my kitchen table with me for awhile and let me blow off steam and listened intently while I got a good portion of my mental garbage out of my system. (Alas, not all of my mental garbage, because then I would cease being the real me and we wouldn’t want a “me” going about her business in this world without some remnants of mental garbage tagging along, would we?)
You know, this is an example of my mental garbage. I hesitate to share it, but I will anyway. I was meditating this morning, around 6 AM. In fact, before I began my meditation, I was really looking forward to it, so I thought I was in a good space. I was doing an old Davidji guided meditation, that takes you to the seashore and then to a beautiful forest, where there’s a stream, and just all kinds of really relaxing wonderful, beautiful imagery. And I was doing reasonably okay with the meditation, although I was aware that some negative vibes were creeping in around the edges. But then I got to my favorite part of the meditation, which is the forest part, and suddenly, in the visualization, I pull out a handgun and shoot myself in the head and my head explodes in the forest.
I have a spirit guide who is sometimes in my meditations and sometimes not. And today, he wasn’t there, until I blew my head open and then he appeared in the forest, and he was really angry and he yelled, “What the hell did you do that for?”
I just don’t know. I tried to piece it together and as near as I could tell, it had something to do with the imagery of the dolphins frolicking in the sea, and suddenly it seemed like there was too much love in the world that didn’t include me and suddenly I shot myself in the head.
That’s my mental garbage. Sadly, that goes on in my head a lot. Although I am really trying hard to work on having a more flexible ego; one that does not always resort to the fallback position of “killing me” whenever the idea of “love” rears its ugly head…
Well, I tried to reclaim my morning from there. I got out of bed and sent Sandra what I hope was a reasonable text, looking to re-schedule at her convenience, but reminding her that I’ve been working on this play with her for 5 years already, and that I want to be updated re: the music rehearsals, you know. Seems fair.
And I also reminded myself that even though I was unimpressed with the writing I did yesterday, at least the words are down on the page(s) and I can begin polishing them today. Life goes on.
Yes, even though vacations end, life does indeed go on. It’s all still looking really good. Not sure why I felt the sudden need to shoot myself. (But, you know, in all honesty, this is why I don’t want guns in the house. You can undo a meditation pretty quickly, but you can’t undo the real-life version. And God knows, I can come up with some really, really bad ideas in, you know, a heartbeat.)