How did it come to be nearly two weeks since my last post? I should be banished from Blogger Land. Or at least have to pay a penalty.
Whilst awaiting the transmogrification of batter into cookies in the oven (350 for 7-10 min = peanut butter goodness) I thought I'd sit down at ye olde faithful lappe toppe and tap out a few lines. If I could just think over the irritatingly happy noise of Daft Punk's Lucky. (Do not even think of the song as it is sure to get stuck in your head. Unless Daft Punk can't get lodged in your brain because you already happen to be thinking of What does the fox say, to which all I can say is... hatee hatee hatee ho)
That, actually, is a good segue to something I've been thinking about a lot since life exploded - in a minor way - this week. I need to be more protective of quiet and peace in my home. I can't really control the events in my life or what goes on at work (though, yes, I can control how I cope with them, react to them) I often retreat into hours of movie watching, endless Youtube clips, or loud music - hard rock being something of a weakness. I reward myself after a day of work or console myself after a difficult week by retreating, hiding from myself. And I can tell I've been doing it because I'm not writing. I'm so completely detached from what is going on within, that I have no tangible ideas, no concrete thoughts, no coherent words to share. There are no stories germinating in my imagination because I'm drifting passively in someone else's.
Here's an example: it was a very difficult week but with my new resolution I had determined to treat this weekend as a retreat. I envisioned myself, notebook in hand, finally fleshing out the handful of ideas I have scribbled in lists into fully fleshed articles, with even a story or two thrown in. I was going to make this an internet-free weekend, strictly me, paper and pen, and the pile of books I'm aching to sink my teeth into.
But you know what happened? I logged in before I was even out of bed this morning. The whole day since, I've been chasing my tail around the internet, from email, to chat, to Facebook, to YouTube and on and on. Oh, there have been breaks of sanity. I watered the plants. I noticed the sun was shining. I washed dishes. But those breaks from the screen have been to the tune of Papa Roach, Arctic Monkeys, and The Black Keys. (Disclaimer approaching) Not that there is anything wrong with that music. It has its time and place. However I know this about myself: my surroundings deeply affect my interior life. While I am disappointed in myself for not having followed through with my plan for the day, I now feel restless, jangly, disconnected, unsettled from a day spent with the bombardment of visual and sonic stimulation.
Well... the cookies are done. Time to turn the music off. I'm going to retreat to the living room with the last pages of a book and a cup of cocoa.