Sunday, September 10, 2006

I look at the floor and see it needs sweeping

My health must be reasonably good at the moment. It occurs to me that I have no idea what is happening in The Archers just now. This is always a good sign. But I am struggling to

(a) do this pacing malarkey, like what I said I would and
(b) get back to doing any work

The pacing thing I am simply appalling at. Some people take very well to that sort of thing; to arrange activities and rest periods in an orderly manner, to have timetables, lamenated itenery sheets and medication in one of those funny little plastic boxy things. I am not proud of the fact that I have a terribly absent-minded, disorganised nature, greatly exacerbated by illness. So I am having to do something against my nature.

On top of this, resting sucks. Even when I am really very tired, unless I am going to go to sleep, my brain is still churning over at a tremendous pace - all nonsense, total nonsense - and if I just lie down and go with that, it is a truly miserable experience. If I am capable of creating any distraction, any at all, then I do; a radio programme, looking at pictures, anything. But that's breaking the rules, see? And if I don't rest properly, my energy levels don't recover to nearly the same extent.

There's relaxation tapes and things which help, but I suppose the entire point is that I don't want to do this and I will keep making excuses and being frustrated by limitations which are greater than they need to be - limitations I have made for myself through ill-discipline.

As for the book. I don't know. I so want to get on and finish it. But because my health has been so up and down this last year, I am a bit scared really. I am afraid that I will get into it, get everything flowing, edge closer to completion and then get more sick again, have it slip out of my hands for the thirty-four thousandth time and then get really down about it.

I need to throw myself into it, but it's a bit like walking along a corridor in the dark. You think there's a door at the other end, but you're not absolutely sure and you're certainly not sure how far you have to walk. In the meantime, there are all sorts of obstacles between here and there, some of which you can get around, some of which may involve sharp spikey things at shin level and others of which involve chairs and tables stacked the height and width of the corridor and may hold you back for some time as you try to get through.

And once again, when paragraphs like that pop out of my fingertips, I wonder whether I ought to be doing something else with my time anyway. Even more so when I describe paragraphs popping out of my fingertips. Could I make it better if I changed the verb? Perhaps emenate from my fingertips. Uh, perhaps not. It is very late in the evening.

Tomorrow is Monday; another excuse for another fresh start.

6 comments:

Anonymous said...

'Tomorrow is Monday; another excuse for another fresh fart'

@ least I thought that was what you wrote.

Painting and handicrafts is a million times better than writing;-)

Hildegard von Furzen

The Goldfish said...

'Painting and handicrafts is a million times better than writing.'

Mine aren't. Mine are worse.

Anonymous said...

I stand corrected in the corner Granma;-)

Hildegard von Hirni
xxx

Mary said...

Painting and handicrafts also involve a level of having to clean up afterwards.

I've got no creative ability but I've got a colouring-in book (one of those ones with the sort of kalidoscope patterns? It's sort of about 2% more interesting than colouring in the squares in your maths book when you were in school) for when I'm half dead, can't look at the computer, can't read, can't hold a conversation, but need something to do.

Anonymous said...

Great to hear you're feeling good. Hope I don't sound like a spoilsport, but do be wary of that false friend adrenalin. Sometimes after a big event (ie visiting a rock star) it takes a while to drop off. A bit like the cartoon cliche of running off a cliff into mid-air before realising.

As for this nonsense about your art/handicrafts not being as good as your writing - I present exhibit A and exhibit B

Marcelle Proust said...

Days and days late, as usual. Your troubles resting are mine, to a T. It's nice to know there's company.