I'm restless. I can't quite figure out why. It's not that I'm waiting for something to happen, because I don't even know what I would be waiting for, but I'm anxious. I want everything to happen at once. I want to snap my fingers and be in shape, I want to sit down with a notebook and when I look up again, I want it to be full. I want my apartment to be tidy and for all the extraneous possessions that I've been avoiding sorting, to magically be gone. I want my life to fit again. I'm overwhelmed and that overwhelm has rendered me motionless.
My routines have been shattered by traveling. I like traveling, and I like that I get to do it for my job sometimes. But I don't like the timing of it this year. I was building momentum and then I was ripped out of my routine for a week. Just as I was settling back in, it happened again. I'm pretty stationary now, until May, I think. But the heavy snowfall we just got makes me lethargic. At least I've been reading more, reading instead of napping. So that's a plus.
I'm ready for spring, I think. Winter hasn't knocked me down like it has in the past, but it feels restricting. I can't go outside, it's covered in snow or it's unbearably cold, oftentimes both. Spring is freedom. I can roam outside and go wherever I want. Maybe I'll start running again. I really want to do a full 5K this year. I'm practically starting back at zero. Couch level. Winter did that to me. I don't have a treadmill and I don't like them anyway. Partially because I get worried that I'll lose my rhythm and trip and be the victim of a horrendous treadmill accident. I didn't say it was a logical reason, but it's in the back of my mind. I'm trying to embrace my quirks. I'm trying to be more of myself. Interestingly, I used to also be afraid of driving in snow, but for some reason this week, I feel like I am the boss of it. Tuesday's snowstorm would have normally left me locked inside in my sweatpants, but I just kind of shrugged and ventured across town. I don't think I'm afraid anymore. Not sure why.
My writing is coming in fragments. I've sort of been doing it, just not here. My writing class is over and I got really anxious about not having that structure, and sort of stopped. I still carry a notebook around, with my designated writing pen, but I haven't touched it in a while. I have a few things written in a notebook. I blamed the traveling for not posting, because it's not enough to write, I need to connect. I crave feedback and interaction. But it's bullshit, because I had a wireless connection at the hotels I stayed at. I could have posted. I just didn't. I don't really know why, it felt kind of like laziness, but I'm sure it's more complex than that. I'm holding myself back for some reason. My mind wants an all-or-nothing - it has to be great, or it's not worth the time to type it. Bullshit. We're not getting along right now, my brain and I.
Maybe when my vacation time resets I'll take a week long staycation. I'll be horribly lazy the first day, maybe even two. I'll sleep too much and I'll likely not even shower. But after that, I'll get the itch to do something constructive, and then I'll tidy up my living space, or write a few pages, read a book, watch a movie, get crafty, create something. That sounds nice. Maybe I'm just restless for a break. I just need to stand still, do it properly. It's not that I'm bored or lazy; I think it's just that I'm stuck.