And my excuse is (the rather late in life) discovery of Phillip Pullman as an author and the series His Dark Materials. Having first finished reading Northern Lights, I asked the library to hold the next two books for me. The third arrived first and I held off reading until The Subtle Knife arrived. Very hard to put down, but sleep became an necessity. Finished yesterday and picked up The Amber Spyglass and read for as long as I could stay awake. On wakening I felt flat. Christmas is a-coming and, for many reasons, I find this time of year depressing. Am I just being contrary?
Is it because the expectation is that we are all supposed to be full of joy and goodwill that triggers misery? Mood lifted when searching Google Images for an appropriate pic for this post.
Discovered this which is how I often describe my state when I will have almost finished the novel which is currently a lazy effort in progress. I am at a point where I have a good idea of what words need putting to page so ‘block’ is not a problem. If anything, I have too many ideas. As I operate from the premise that everyone has a story worth telling, I find I am having to put much about my characters to one side as potential for another story, to be written at another time, while I proceed with the laying down and discovery of several legacies within the whole – gifts from the past to the future being told in the present.
Rather than fret about what I feel I should be doing – that is writing – I may give in to what I feel like doing,; in no particular order, get dressed, breakfast, another coffee, walk 3000 steps to the gym for an upper body workout followed by a swim, an email to my property manager advising that if my landlady is not soon forthcoming with the refund of NBN connection (as a new build) I will have to take the matter to the Rent Tribunal.
But the over-riding worry will be addressed tomorrow – will a new hairdresser leave me with less on my mind?
With a fresh hair-do, newly purchased clothes (op-shop) in the colours deemed suited earlier this week I plan on looking as good as possible in the hope that lifts the mood from flat, flat, flat while being grateful it is not down, down, down. Possibly the fourteen years on lithium has trained some part of my mind not to go to dark places, which is good, I must admit. Am I expecting too much to hope that in reaching out I may come in contact with the joy of sharing and being shared with?
Second thoughts, am only at page 46 of 522 in The Amber Spyglass which means all the good intentions will go by the board. I can swim tomorrow after my new hairdo, will now compose the email to the property manager, so after toast and coffee, I will back back to the book.
Whatever plans you have for this day, be as flexible as you need to enjoy being alive in what ever way you want to pass the time.