Moods, Good bad or Indifferent

I’ve been pulled back in, or at least the attempt is being made, and it’s the tug of the blog and not clutching of a tired swimmer struggling to survive. The last week or so has been hard, and not sense that my days have been full of onerous tasks. There has been some of that but moreso I had lost my drive to journal, to write my thoughts and to verbalized my fears. In short my mood toward writing, and other things, sucked.

Today had to be the day, I told myself, the point where “damn the torpedoes” I have to pen something.  It helps that another book I’ve taken up reading, called ” the Right to Write”, is describing that very situation. I’ve mentioned this book before, it happens to be the one that “jumped off the shelf” at me, figuratively not literally.  That really would have been cool, wouldn’t it.  The current paragraph describes how we just have to begin, we need only to promise ourselves that we will write for 5 minutes, only 1 paragraph, and the act of starting to write will unleash the torrents of words that are held within us.  Seems to have worked so far.  That part of my mood has lifted somewhat, like the curtains parting on a new play.

I don’t know what my problem has been, although my mind is full of speculation. The ideas of why, the reasons and/or excuses are in plentiful supply. to separate the wheat from the chaff is the challenge.

Certainly the issues with my Dad are ongoing.  The current situation is generally revolving around his scooter, and the lack of battery life.  He cannot go far without the scooter power dropping significantly and he is concerned (rightly so I must admit) of becoming stranded somewhere.  You think that’d be an easy one to fix, and it should be, but in a town with only one scooter supply store and a technician that “seems” to be run off his feet it has become a bit of a cluster f***.  Still no repair done, and the weather is great now where a spin outside would still be ok.  Soon, very soon, that will not be the case and he will be house bound, like a trapped animal, looking out from their cage wanting to be free.

Could also be my retirement plans, or strong desire for them to come to fruition.  I yearn to retire, I also feel like the trapped animal.  I’m fortunate that I can exit my cage but I am still held on a too-short leash. It’s only fear and common sense that are holding me back, fear of taking that step and common sense telling me I can’t afford it.

The passing of Andy Rooney, of the television show “60 Minutes” fame, has made me think as well.  Here’s a man who has made his passion his life , the art of crafting words.  He was described as a curmudgeon among other things, due in part to his talent for saying it like it was.  He pulled no punches and said what he thought.  His knack was also saying what many of us felt inside but were either afraid to say or unable to articulate.

So perhaps Mood can be a good thing after all, something that can drive us to say what needs to be said, if only for ourselves.  I do feel better.

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