Early & Alone #53: A Mood
A candle is lit. Writing music playlist is playing. Coffee is poured. It’s early enough so that it’s still somewhat quiet in my apartment. It’s raining outside. The scene is set for writing.
And yet.
Gizmo is restless, prowling around the kitchen, pawing at my legs, trying to get me to play with him. He has pent-up energy because it’s been raining since last night and he refuses to go more than a few feet outside in the rain. Such a delicate flower. I opened my laptop to several emails pertaining to my freelance project so needed to deal with that first. I listened to The Daily while folding laundry and seethed with quiet rage as the hosts glossed over the fact of the 11 (and definitely more) women that Andrew Cuomo has sexually harassed to talk about political alliances and impeachment and his legacy as governor. As if any of those things should matter in the face of his disgusting abuses of power.
So, yeah, I guess you could say I’ve tried to create the right writing mood but it’s not quite working. As usual, it seems that I’m asking too much of my brain. The default setting lately is scattered, overwhelmed, anxious, uncertain, angry. Like most people, I’m just trying to live my life as though there’s not a pandemic continuing to ravage the world, ever-worsening weather and wild fires as a result of climate change, horrifying instances of racial and class inequality that seem to grow worse instead of better with the passage of time…and yeah, it turns out that trying to compartmentalize all of this only works so well.
This is a long way of saying “Wow, I’m sorry it’s been so long since I’ve written! Haha, life! Time flies! I promise to be better!”
In all honesty, I am trying to set a routine, to follow through, to show up for myself. I find routines to be sustaining because they anchor me. But in the years since I’ve been let loose from the tether of my office job, I’ve found settling into routines difficult. I am seduced by the temptation to change things up, to take a nap in the middle of the afternoon, to work until 10 pm, to shower at all kinds of random times, if at all. The flexibility is great, don’t get me wrong, but it also adds to my sense of uncertainty and feeling out of sorts.
So I’m trying to establish at least some semblance of routine. Of course, my timing isn’t great, as in the next few weeks I’ll be consumed with packing up all of my belongings and moving them to a new apartment, just shy of a year after having done it for the first time since I left New York, seven years ago. I think this sense of temporary-ness has been running underneath everything for me for the better part of the last year, knowing I wasn’t happy here, knowing I wouldn’t be staying, but not knowing what the next step would be. Now at least I know where I’ll be—just a few minutes down the street, in an apartment that will hopefully be quiet enough to think my own thoughts again—but it’s still a kind of uncertainty. I think we all underestimate how much uncertainty can throw us off course, and we’re all dealing with so much of it right now.
My hope is that I will get back to sending these missives every two weeks. My hope is that I will figure out what I want to be saying, what I want to convey. My hope is that you will keep reading, despite all the uncertainty. My hope is that the recommendations will be back next time.
Until then, I hope you give yourself grace and recognize that you’re dealing with so much. You’re allowed to feel off-kilter, a little sad, a little angry, a little scared. We’re all just doing the best we can.