Finding myself a bit lost since returning from Europe.
Days are gray, cold and rainy here in Panhandle City, I’m truly dragging my pants in the mud, staining my favourite suede boots, hosting bad hair days – every day, misplacing umbrellas, losing energy to renew my confidences, re-attaching head to neck to shoulders to heart vs. the fly-away balloon brain I hold by a string, can’t seem to forge fingers to keyboard to express such prosaic nonsensical blahness.
Muddy reasoning states: It’s the time of year! Tis the season to be morose! You miss your family! You miss your best girlfriends! You have no purpose!
Lemony sugarbits are quietly shouting through the drink: Stop whining! You’re a motivated individual – off that floor! Find new goals, stick to them, you will feel better!
Absurd double entendre of voices in my seashell. Sort of wish to throw them back to water and sink. The glory of traveling alone was my invisibility – no one knew me, no judgements were made, no expectations to smash; it was simple diversions to all that I know in my usually squally ocean.
The comedy of these metaphors is that if you toss a lemon in the sea, it will float. So I guess my sink dream is not mine to have.
I hate myself being whiny.