I’m not feeling very inspired today.
For those just tuning in, I’m writing five hundred words every day for the month of October. It’s been going well, thanks for asking, and I’ve only missed a couple days so far.
There are no rules, so a lot of the posts are kind of like journal entries where I talk about whatever’s on my mind. Otherwise, I did a fake news post yesterday that was fun, and some fiction based on a dream I had earlier this week.
The idea is to write a little every day, because it’s a hobby that I love, to kind of shake out the cobwebs and flex those writing muscles again. I find that writing is kind of like washing your hands after working on a car. It’s takes a while to get all the grease and oil off (and you have to use a special orange grainy soap), but once you’ve put in the work, the water runs clear. Does that make sense? I don’t know, I’m going to leave it though.
Today has just been weird right? I mean, it started when I woke up at around three am, as awake as if it were the middle of the day, thinking about the time I lived in Montreal fifteen years ago. I was a different person back then and there are a lot of things I would do differently if I had the chance, but it’s not a time in my life that I tend to dwell on anymore. Except for this morning.
So, since I’m trying to write more, I decided to spare my partner my tossing and turning and write about what was on my mind. But then after I’d done that for a while, I still couldn’t sleep, so I watched Star Trek: Deep Space Nine and had a nighttime neocitran and that knocked me out for a few hours.
Anyway, later on I was on the picket line and it was busy and I just didn’t feel very social, so I went to the back alley which is usually a bit more chill. Luckily, one of my public service colleagues who happens to be Indigenous had brought sage and was smudging people.
I’d just been in such a funk all morning that it was so nice to spend a minute with the sacred herbs. She could tell how tense I was right off the bat and said, “Mark, you’ve gotta let yourself relax.” It was fantastic. I almost cried afterwards.
Maybe it’s the tension from the loss of income from the strike (week four for me now), the fact that we have a trip coming up, the myriad of other bills to pay and costs to cover, or just the changing weather, but these last few days I’ve really felt on edge.
And this next part might sound stupid, but I feel guilty for being stressed. When I think about my problems compared to say, the plight of the Palestinians right now, or the fact that the United States is rapidly descending into fascism in front of our faces, I’ve got it pretty good.
But also, reminding yourself about how much worse it could be doesn’t help solve the current predicament either.
I hate bad days.