I am extremely irritable today and at the risk of being void of any writing skill whatsoever, I will make an attempt not to overthrow any value of what I say by my congested head ( I speak quite literally about the congestion) and describe what little I remember and a bit about what I'm learning.
The final emotions of defeat are more a result from feeling ill than absolute hopelessness and even that sounds dramatic. I finally settled in my chair after running about on medical errands; doctor appointments and lab tests filled up my afternoon, and herein resides a sadist who enjoys maximizing the air conditioner in winter while I suffer from a cold, the last of three related illnesses plaguing me for over a month. The final jab of the day was the result of an ultrasound and on my way out of the medical clinic, I scheduled a biopsy. I am feeling deflated.
The weekend was filled with reunions of artistic background and I was not very alert throughout much of them. In fact, I returned home after only twenty minutes of a script-adapting meeting and collapsed in bed after reuniting with fellow dancers of a troup I belonged with years ago. It was strange to recognize how one gathering represented a past long gone and the other something to be produced way into the future where I had no sense of being part of beyond the small assistance I bring to it now.
What I suspect is that I am in dire need of refreshment and inspiration in form of travel to a distant land. I am at the brink of tears for my lack of energy and am resolved to lay it all down and learn from the prospect of doing nothing in order to heal. I am lackluster but it is the result of a void that I am eager to have filled and so I wait on God for the miracle of forward motion while I remain still. I have no desire to search but to go. I have no answers but blank stares. I have form still but no coloring. All the more for experience to fill me in.