Radiation Level: Less than a banana. So Diane Sawyer says.
Listening to: Art Slave by Amalia
Okay, my brain has turned to pop rocks – it is bubbling in a toxic, radioactive ooze inside my skull. Why? My hope has burned out.
Back up. I’m not in Libya. I’m not in Japan. I’m not in Bangladesh. THANK YOU, POWERS THAT BE! So I realize things could be much worse. But, for some reason, I can’t seem to get anything done. I’m not blogging. I’m not writing the pilot treatment I said I would. I’m not finishing the play I said I would. I’m not doing my taxes. I’m not cleaning my closet. Or my office. What the heck is up?
I used to bribe myself to do things. Write 10 pages and you can buy that “Windswept Prairie” skirt at Anthropologie!
But not having money has put a cramp in my usual method. And I can’t wear any fancy clothes while I’m teaching. (I use an astonishing amount of green food coloring in my science class). And I’m still trying to lose weight. (I’m down 5 pounds and am loathe to gain it back. Can you say ‘carrots for breakfast’?)
So. I’ve discovered online jigsaw puzzles. Yeah.
Maybe it’s the world. No fly zones and Tsunamis are stealing my focus. It’s hard to let go of the mess that is happening and really concentrate on something creative. And I keep thinking about the end of the Space Shuttle Program. We, the United States, are no longer space explorers. I feel completely demoralized by this. I’m sure we’ll have a space program again some time in my life time, but for right now, I just feel sad. All that space waiting to be explored. All those people unemployed. Click here for a Space Shuttle dirge.
Anyway, it’s a weird time and I’m sure I’ll get bored of being bored and get to work. Soon. Right? Note to self: DON’T EAT.