I'm in a bit of a funk. The blahs. The doldrums, if you will. There's a restlessness that, if you could see it, would look like someone trying to Houdini their way out of a straightjacket under cover of a wet wool blanket. I want to ditch everything and go live in a tropical paradise with a hammock in the indoor/outdoor livingroom. I want to pull a Peter Gibbons and stop going to my job. Not quit, just not go anymore. Or show up just to do things my way and tell Mr. TPS Reports to suck it, with "Damn it Feels Good to be a Gangsta" playing in the background. (Too much?)
Maybe this is all just because it's January and I hate January because it's still winter. Maybe it's the fact that I am being strangled to mental death by layers and layers of bureaucracy and I feel like nothing I drag ass out of bed at 6:00 a.m. to do every day is in any way measurable or definable or tangible. I feel a tremendous need to do things my own way, but also a tremendous, suffocating exhaustion that makes it hard for me to act. Right now I feel like nothing I'm doing is allowing me to shine, and I am shiny, dammit! At least, I used to be.
I want to do something new. I want to create something or make something or at least just contribute in some recognizable way. I want to feel good at what I'm doing and know that I'm good at it because it is well suited to my abilities and to me as a person. Right now I would happily be a fabulous housewife or a really good waitress if it would mean that I had found my groove again.