I cannot read.  I’ve been trying to catch up on my favourite blogs.  Read back in blogs to which I’ve only recently been introduced such as “Late to the Party”  and “Veggiemacabre“.

I have books out of the library.  Haven’t read one word.

Not writing either.  A few emails.
 A text message or two.  A paltry-ass blog post here and there.

My son is still in his pajamas and it’s 4:30 in the afternoon.

Every time I’ve asked him if he wants to go somewhere and do something… Pet store (fun time), Outside to play in the snow (was warm’ish today, would have been fun for him anyway)… He says:

“No thank you Mommy.”

He’s so polite about it.

So, I’ve been tidying up a bit.  Clean laundry away.  Closet tidied a smidge.  Sheets changed.  Mattress rotated.  Light bulbs replaced (except the one where I had bought the wrong voltage…).  Washing machine actively engaged.

I might tackle the desk and the kitchen table which is basically just Desk Mark II…

But that would be terribly ambitious. The clutter is getting to me.  An external manifestation of the inside of my mind.  

A mind from which nothing of substance will spring these days.
A mind into which nothing of substance can make entrance these days.

If it were spring I could say, “I’m restless and unfocused but it’s spring and that’s just the way it goes in spring.”

But it won’t be spring for at least 4 more months.  I have no excuse.

I didn’t turn my TV on once in 3 days though I caught some stuff online so it’s not like I was on a complete TV/Movie abstinence regime.  And it’s not like any of it is on purpose.

I love TV.
I love movies.
I love books.
I love writing.

I just can’t give myself to any of them with any kind of conviction and it’s starting to piss me off. It’s like I’m waiting for something. I’d say I’m hibernating which brings us right back to notions of spring and restlessness to create but I’m not sure I am hibernating.

I’d say I’m drained and have no energy but even that isn’t entirely true. I am wired much of the time. Brain on overdrive.

I mean I made Wall-E and Eve eyes out of paper and crayons, and treads out of curled, taped paper (life sized of course) and played pretend with my son. I have been crocheting again too. We also made fortresses and played construction site with some “Moon Sand” today (cool, cool stuff but it gets EVERYWHERE). He pretended the sofa was a trampoline and that he was different characters from Winnie the Pooh while I cleaned up the sand.

I found myself idly thinking who of my friends was most like which Pooh character… Most of them are the bastard love children of more than one character I think… As am I, as it would happen.

But this isn’t me.
This is me “light”.
This is me “flighty”, “lost”, “restless”…
I don’t like it.

I keep thinking I should just scrap this blog. The photo one too. I’m not writing. I have a hundred pictures I could post but I’m just too damn lazy.

Maybe if I scrapped it all – pulled back from everything I might get motivated to make things new for myself. Again. I did so much letting go of old to make way for new last year, maybe I’m now addicted to rapid, gut-wrenching change?

I’ve been musing on caterpillars and butterflies a lot. More specifically on cocoons.

Something very appealing about a cocoon right now. And this too leads back to hibernation and springtime.

It leads too, to transformation. Rebirth. Metamorphosis.

See? There is something here but it can’t ferment properly because there’s too much other shit in there and it couldn’t make it out of the mess even if it could turn itself into something worth writing…

Whatever.

How, oh how, can my brain be this full and this empty at the same time? Isn’t there some law of physics I am violating?

I hope I’ll be back soon.
Just don’t count on it.

(And I’m sorry for neglecting all your blogs…. *sigh*…)