Words in a waltz

So the new year began on a chilly note and persistent shivers. The worst season for illnesses of all forms, including the inertia that plagues the mind. Creativity is an underlying mosaic that swirls like paint stirred by a blade of dried grass on a slab of brain cells. The ideas are constantly evolving, and through the sneezing and sniffling, some words appear and morph into mercury-tickled monsters. Three books wait to be finished, and some phrases stick out, urging one to follow through. But white days bleed into gray evenings and just like the barren trees, there is a sense of stunted growth, a feeling of something amiss, a great loss that needs to be mourned. Winter is a wretched time of the year, and I completely submit to it like most others. But there are little highs, and one ought to feel thankful and blessed.

The mind harks back to Julie & Julia, the in-flight entertainment on Qantas on the way home from the other continent while the little got her beauty sleep. There is nary a difference in the way Julie felt about her life and the way mine is. I suppose I am meant to derive inspiration from what she made of it and steer the wheel with more elan and skill than I am with these white knuckles. I think there was some semblance of an idea there, something that implored to be pursued, but I seem to have lost the fire that stoked it up to begin with.

This leads to the presumption that one is not surrounded by folks who push one to one's farthest limits, egging one on as one falls and bruises oneself. Well, since there is more truth in that than a sense of assumption, it must be a fact. Everyone is always busy, always uninspired and seldom available. Everyone wants to feel otherwise, but who is going to take the lead? Everyone wants to be approached and encouraged and supported, but er..isn't there a slight technical problem there, given how everyone shuts off and becomes unavailable? And everyone complains about that! Everyone is tired of being bored, being ignored, not being talked to, spending too much time waiting for something to happen, wasting precious hours Facebooking, being unable to make a difference in the world, being preoccupied a lot, being overcommitted, underused, unused, useless, or slaving for someone or some company that isn't their true love. So, who is going to change all or any of that? Random friendships are hard to sustain, but true friends are harder to hold on to. So one supposes the strength then should stem from within, or some such place unbeknownst to anyone.

So, while I go look for the fire within, I hope the few who care to stop by and read about my mundane, lackadaisical, inactive life will feel the pinch and get upto something themselves. Er..I so ought to get a life, and Rocket Singh could possibly help me rearrange that hollow called zero.