(Title snitched from one of my soul-sister's blogs.)
Lawks, and a ragged morning it is - I'm not in a great mood. One might even say that I feel the stirrings of moodiness, owing to the weather, to the ever-increasing sleep deprivation (damn insomnia), and a rather inexplicable feeling of raggedness in myself. I ought not dwell on it; it will do no good. But it's there, and I am not strong enough this morning to resist it, or ignore it. They say you feed bad spirits when you acknowledge them, and perhaps that's true - but sometimes they are hard to ignore, like that strange, tight, almost-angry feeling hovering at the base of my heart.
I feel...strangely empty. Ragged. Tired. Not quite used up, but definitely not fresh, not young, not vibrant. Smoldering wet ashes: fog-drizzled dawn. Soaking smoky moon. And I am not those things - but I feel them this morning, like stagnant water in the veins. It's a morning for unfortunate gothy poetry. A morning for overwrought, Romantic ramblings. But I can't find it in myself either to indulge in such things - that would be giving in, and no matter how sunk I feel, I'm not giving in.
I have class tonight, which is not helping my mood. After a full day's work, I'll have two-and-half hours of class, in which I am the only grad student, which doesn't help my mood (my experiences in mixed classes has left me cold). I've done all the readings for class: poems by two poets; an essay on revision and critiquing poetry; and the poems from classmates. On the whole: not bad work by my classmates. But there are two poems in the batch trite enough and cliched enough to make me cry. The Captain, who is in the class with me, expressed concern over his ability to critique the poems without being cruel (which has been expressly forbidden); he asked to read my comments and observations, in order to better phrase his own comments to the works. We shall see. I feel rather...blase' about the prospect of my classmates reading my stuff. *shrug*
I could give a great deal for a huge steaming cup of dark hot chocolate this morning; I feel like it would warm me all over, from my creaking ankles to my hovering heart, and everything in between, and drive out the ragged feeling. I had a cup of hot tea late last night, and it was good for the soul.
Meh - that's enough of my moody ramblings. I ought to work, to shed the mood by focusing the mind on the matters at hand. I have a session to teach in about half-an-hour, and I need to wake up and focus on that, rather than the drifting, driving melancholy. We had a lovely, full weekend: resting Friday; dinner and boardgames with friends Saturday; and I spent Sunday afternoon washing dishes (our dishwasher seems to have snuffed it) and giving the kitchen floor an honest-to-God hands-and-knees cleaning. I also did some general straightening and arranging, which made the ever-present clutter issue more bearable, and then I spent the rest of the evening writing letters and watching "Sense & Sensibility" over and over again.
Well, that's all from my ragged corner of the world. How 'bout you?
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment