It is springtime. At least that is what I hear but the heat is still on. The weekend was cold and it just feels all damp and clammy. This is not spring. This is still winter.
And I am in the winter funk.
The long winter, or it seemed that way because of more cold and dreary days, did not offer me any inspiration. Even with all the time and toys to do whatever came to mind, nothing came to mind. Hours spent reading other’s works and ideas and observing old film clips and music videos did nothing to motivate me.
Even with heat and massive amounts of coffee, night would become day and day would become night and it all seemed the same. Walking from the kitchen to the office to the bathroom to the bedroom was all the exercise of the day. Only storing enough food for a few days, there were constant rides to the local grocery, even in the snow, but it was never enough to wear me out.
The winter is very quiet. No lawnmowers or children’s voices or birds or motorcycles fill the air. Only snow and dark shadows welcome everyday and fade to darkness at night. An empty house has its own sounds and alone every sound is an adventure in terror.
The voices are louder in the winter months. The voices keep awake at night and tell you things you try to forget. The voices speak from the past, the present, and a possible future. The voices remind what you already know and forecast the inevitable.
Your only company is your neighbors. You feed them everyday to make sure they come by and visit. You speak to them but they do not understand. They clean their plates and leave their trash, yet you repeat the process everyday.
So the calendar says it is springtime and everyone awakens from the winter blahs. That is everyone but me. While they gather under semi-sunshine to rake the remains of winter and start anew, I will wake only to sleep again.
My parents used to call it gumption. The get-up-and-go that seems to have got-up-and-went doesn’t wake me long enough during the day to do what needs to be done. I logically know and understand what needs to be done but just don’t do it.
As a youth, I was a night owl. I can blame it on being a teen but for whatever reasons then I would stay up past bedtime and read or draw or listen to music into the wee hours of the morning. This behavior probably helped my late night carousing but didn’t help my attention span in school.
Today looked like a good day. The temperatures rose and the sun came out. The birds were even singing, but I slept through it.
Not entirely, for I woke up around sunrise and had my coffee and checked my emails in my usual routine but the mind and body said go back to bed and I followed the commands.
I awoke again at 3PM, more refreshed but the day had past me by. I still caught a brief glimpse of spring but missed a wonderful day. The neighbors scowled me for being late with the open buffet and Al even got tired and wandered off early. I didn’t wash the dishes. I didn’t take out the trash.It seems like today was a beautiful day and I missed it.