I haven't blogged in months. Strangely, what was once an outlet for churned up emotions, thoughts, aspirations, desires and dreams..now seems an empty canvas. Nothing seems to work me up into a fireball lately. And hence all words remain locked up inside the neurons in my head.
Maybe its the doing-too-much-at-one-time syndrome. Maybe the aftermath of the syndrome. Whatever it is, I do not like it! If I am me, then why do I become a stranger just like that?
Don't you all feel this way at times? Wondering why the pace of life ebbs and flows with total randomness and total disregard for your wants? Even the spirit of Christmas, which has always managed to provide that boot-in-the-rear momentum to life..seems to have packed its bags and retired:-(
So what do you think life is? A whim of several billion cells to be you for a while? Then I hereby order all of you cells to reformulate your patterns and become ME, for Chrissakes!
I know exactly what you mean. Suddenly everything you do every day seems so mundane, so useless. Or maybe so full of boring usefulness, that your synapses have just gotten used to sparking on the same boring paths all the time.
ReplyDeleteLike they say, whoever "they" may be - life is what you make of it. That's what I tell myself everytime I find myself walking down that path that makes one feel like you are feeling right now. Read, write, watch, experience, smell, talk - and it mostly all gets better. :)