What did I long for most in my younger life? Probably a partner. When I had one, my deepest desire became a “reciprocal” partner. I think the thing I wanted most after that was respect. And, of course, I wanted sufficient cash to have and do the things I wanted. Ambition gives you hope; hope gives you the juice with which to power through life.
Now I don’t feel equipped to live with a partner and I could care less about respect or any other opinion of someone else, really. (I try, but sometimes fail, not to offend.) And I have all the cash I need so I am without ambition and that leaves me, often, without energy.
I have winter ennui and I have 2016 fatigue.
2016 will forever be the year of PTSD (and seizures and loss of speech), Donald Trump, no summer and the wettest autumn ever.
It’s 5:45 am on Wednesday. As I type at my desk in front of my huge window that looks out at my neighbourhood and a sliver of the sea, it is black except for the glow of lights in the gas station. But high in the sky is a ragingly bright full moon. Perhaps it is intensifying the ennui.
However … I stayed up late sewing and got up early this morning to do more. It’s an excellent antidote to ennui. And I will break mid-day to have lunch with a group of high school alumni. What should a gathering of alumni be called? A desk of alumni? A chalk? Do schools use chalk any more?
I have tried to like The Walrus, but I can’t. I can like articles, but its not subscription worthy. Nor are Scientific American, Harper’s or any other magazine I can find on a stand. Not for me. And I’m stunned, but I have almost revulsion for animal magazines even though I can’t resist a dog on the street. There’s only the New Yorker and it’s a p ity because I like short-form writing.
Back to sewing.