Whinging waffle on a sunny Friday.
All is not well in the land of the fat cat. Words are being typed arseways, jobs ignored, ennui is rampant, a hollow feeling of lacklustre nowtniess persists.
It was there when I went to bed, it was there when I woke, it's here now.
It's nothing grand, no large scale blow, just a sense of, "meh"
Whence did this malaise come?
Wither the funk?
Too much law and order? Too much CSI? was NY too much?What's going on with Gary's face?
It can't just be me. Surely all of us at some stage have patted our contented bellies and sat back to soak up the relative peace of our lives only to suffer a spike or jab, a whisper of, 'something's missing.'
I got up today and wandered down stairs, I made coffee and, as it is another beautiful day, I went out to the newly shorn garden to drink it. A small pride of cats followed me.
'Puddy.' I said, for she was the only one who sat under my feet. 'What is it? What's wrong with me? Is it because there's nothing wrong that I feel so out of the loop?'
Puddy considered my words most carefully, but in doing so fell asleep -she is old- so I was left to figure it all out for myself.
In my ridiculously mis-spent youth I lived on my nerves a lot, I left home in a rage at 16 and was forever on the cusp of being a total and utter fuck-up. Many a time I tipped over the edge and swam about in the pool of fuckupidyness, but somehow I always clawed my way out.
Now here I am, thirty-four, content, happily ensconced with a good man, I have a good job and yet I'm sitting about like a twat, pondering the unponderable, naval gazing.
Maybe it's because there is no more danger to be had. With Memnoch off foreign the weekly terror is gone. Oh I know that sounds over the top and dramatic, but really, I feared him, we all did. And going to that sad excuse of a class last week just reminded me that not only did I fear Memnoch I respected him. It was a one or twice a week lesson in rage, terror, pain and triumph.
'Oh thank you' we'd cry, picking ourselves up and wiping the sweat from our eyes, checking ourselves for cuts, limping from his class, beaten, but alive. Thank you!
Or maybe it's because I'm getting sensible. I don't drive too fast anymore, I don't smoke, I don't take drugs, hell and this might shock you most, I don't even like to get drunk! (although I do like to drink, don't get confused).
Or perhaps it's the fear. You know, when you're waiting for the other shoe to drop. Stuff going well? Don't worry, something will happen, just you wait and see.
Maybe that's it, maybe I'm just the suspicious sort. Maybe the good weather is getting to me. Where's the rain and the clouds? The biting wind? Why can I sit outside in a t-shirt drinking my coffee in April? Why have I got a tan?
Meh, I don't know. Perhaps I just need to give myself a good boot in the arse, actually that's probably it.
Now if you'll excuse me I'm off to ring my mother. I'm going to tell her that I'm considering becoming a Wiccan.
It was there when I went to bed, it was there when I woke, it's here now.
It's nothing grand, no large scale blow, just a sense of, "meh"
Whence did this malaise come?
Wither the funk?
Too much law and order? Too much CSI? was NY too much?What's going on with Gary's face?
It can't just be me. Surely all of us at some stage have patted our contented bellies and sat back to soak up the relative peace of our lives only to suffer a spike or jab, a whisper of, 'something's missing.'
I got up today and wandered down stairs, I made coffee and, as it is another beautiful day, I went out to the newly shorn garden to drink it. A small pride of cats followed me.
'Puddy.' I said, for she was the only one who sat under my feet. 'What is it? What's wrong with me? Is it because there's nothing wrong that I feel so out of the loop?'
Puddy considered my words most carefully, but in doing so fell asleep -she is old- so I was left to figure it all out for myself.
In my ridiculously mis-spent youth I lived on my nerves a lot, I left home in a rage at 16 and was forever on the cusp of being a total and utter fuck-up. Many a time I tipped over the edge and swam about in the pool of fuckupidyness, but somehow I always clawed my way out.
Now here I am, thirty-four, content, happily ensconced with a good man, I have a good job and yet I'm sitting about like a twat, pondering the unponderable, naval gazing.
Maybe it's because there is no more danger to be had. With Memnoch off foreign the weekly terror is gone. Oh I know that sounds over the top and dramatic, but really, I feared him, we all did. And going to that sad excuse of a class last week just reminded me that not only did I fear Memnoch I respected him. It was a one or twice a week lesson in rage, terror, pain and triumph.
'Oh thank you' we'd cry, picking ourselves up and wiping the sweat from our eyes, checking ourselves for cuts, limping from his class, beaten, but alive. Thank you!
Or maybe it's because I'm getting sensible. I don't drive too fast anymore, I don't smoke, I don't take drugs, hell and this might shock you most, I don't even like to get drunk! (although I do like to drink, don't get confused).
Or perhaps it's the fear. You know, when you're waiting for the other shoe to drop. Stuff going well? Don't worry, something will happen, just you wait and see.
Maybe that's it, maybe I'm just the suspicious sort. Maybe the good weather is getting to me. Where's the rain and the clouds? The biting wind? Why can I sit outside in a t-shirt drinking my coffee in April? Why have I got a tan?
Meh, I don't know. Perhaps I just need to give myself a good boot in the arse, actually that's probably it.
Now if you'll excuse me I'm off to ring my mother. I'm going to tell her that I'm considering becoming a Wiccan.
posted by fatmammycat at 12:09 a.m.
20 Comments:
Maybe it is that life is too comfortable, too predictable, plans have been made , you are following them, your on track to suburbia.
Here check this out http://www.irishlebproject.com/ maybe a bit of charity, a visit too some where you would never think of and a little danger at the same time will snap you out of the place most people live as your called it “Meh”
I go through phases of feeling like that. It usually happens after I have had a really hectic time and then I deflate like a balloon and feel kind of blah.
BUY SHOES, Feel better
Macdara might have a point.
I wonder is it the mid-thirties blues? I've gone through something similar. When all the things in life that were exciting suddenly aren't so exciting anymore.
Shoes eh? Hummmnnnn, you could be on to something.
Eva and Betty-I'm not ignoring you mac but you're not a laydeee- my oldest friend is trying to buy a house at auction today, and it's the house of her dreams, so naturally I called her a few minutes ago to wish her good luck and she burst into tears of sheer frazzlement on the phone.
Erm, I don't really know where I'm going with this, but I felt immediately better, and then immediately guilty that her very real angst made me feel better abuot my so called one. Frankly, maybe there's a lot to be said about being content.
I believe I will call up French gay and see does he want to have lunch.
Yes lunch with friends is always a superb way to wash away any anxieties! Make it a wet one ;)
Good man, good job, nothing to worry about AND you have a french gay?? Jeez, some people have all the luck!
Maybe a run would sort it out?
And I meant to say I hope you feel better soon.
I go through bouts of this occasionally. Good job, wonderful wife and kids, house, all the material things I never had growing up...and yet sometimes I look at it all and think: something's missing. But what? who the hell knows? I've always just presumed it's my personality, always looking for something to go wrong instead of accepting life when things are going well. Although I'm not glad you feel like that, I am glad I'm not alone in things like that getting to me sometimes. Have a splendaculous weekend.
Don't ignore that feeling, get the paramour, drink copious amounts or smoke lots of good weed until 'it' blurts out, it will if you're wasted, it's in there somewhere. If that fails, have a good shag and maybe the tension will release.
Good luck.
do u need broccolis.
Poor thing. It's a rotten feeling all right. Maybe you need a project, something that will challenge and absorb you thoroughly. My husband is great at this. He's lost blissful months, years even, in the garage building a laser and router table, computers and programmes to run them; made clocks, remote control aeroplanes, clan crests for a friend to sell, all sorts.
I envy his productivity. Me, I read books. I did discover a few years ago though that, for me, telly made things worse in these moods so I only watch the news and a couple other programmes now.
In the short term, a good film or digging out some old music you haven't listened to for ages might help. A wee spot of the rum to loosen up the neurons and who knows where the music will take you.
I'm having router problems today and my internet connection has been flickery, so I'm late in doing my usual blog rounds. The kids are home in a bit and then my internet window will be gone 'til tonight. I'll try to think of some ennui-blasting plans 'til then.
Hope you feel better soon, m'darlin'. It's an itchy sensation that plagues you - the trouble is knowing where to scratch.
Speaking of scratching, you could try an all weekend long seduce-a-thon with the paramour. Wine, grapes, sweat, the lot!. Ideas might not come into it but at least juices will flow, right!
Thank you lovely darlings. I'm just back from lunch, it's 9:37pm, a fine time to be returning from any lunch let me tell you. Off now to watch TV, fall onto my face, sleep off ennui, dream of foreign skies, lasers and very possibly cheese burgers-which I would currently like to have in my lamh (irish for hand). Friend got house, v. pleased for her, v big house, v.old, celebrating was done.
Night, have a cracking weekend, you're all terrific. Terrific I say.
As long as you tipped your waiter all will be ok, karma's a bitch...
Oh dear, poor you! I get this sometimes too. No paramour for me; but all else is grand, topping even! But sometimes, bleugh. Greyness and mopery, comparing myself and my life to others, and just - well, deflated balloon is a good way of putting it! And then I feel kinda guilty for such greyness, 'cos I'm dead lucky really, and lots way worse off than me etc. I always find that a weekend of me and books and ice-cream sorts it. Cats help to I hope sunny skies are restored soon m'dear.
It's not just you.... meh!
Just a suggestion: I'm doing a post on voluntary work this week. May interest you.
I'll pop on over and take a gander.
Howdy! I'm at work surfing around your blog from my new iphone! Just wanted to say I love reading through your blog and look forward to all your posts! Keep up the fantastic work!
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