Doldrums are painful. They seep into you unawares and rob you of joie de vivre. They’re like vampires sucking the very juice of you, leaving behind a wet dishcloth, a soggy noodle, Linus without his blanket or a Snoopy on top of his doghouse. I DON’T like doldrums but what to do? Snoopy has the right idea. When in doubt and all else fails, sleep it off. Maybe I can dream up some solutions. Maybe I can borrow Linus’ blanket. Why don’t I make a list.
I wonder if this is what they call brainstorming. Can I be a team of one? It’s working at easing my doldrums. I’m coming alive – without the doghouse and the blanket. Oh, happy day! pops into my head. Singing seems to help even if it’s in my head. I can hear and see Whoopi Goldberg and the kids whooping it up in Sister Act. Oh happy day!
I’m well out of the wet noodle phase now. Apparently doing something, anything can disturb the doldrum mindset. I’m not a list maker but it’s another thing I can do to shake things loose. I can learn to take an inventory of the things I need/like/want to do for future episodes. Might as well be practical, productive, imaginative and have fun at the same time. Oh, happy day it is when I can get inspired!
Some mornings doldrum sits heavily upon me. I’m like a fat Buddha, unable to rise from my Lotus position. I sigh and heave my chest to no avail. I cannot summon up la joie de vivre. I cannot rise above it all. Must I be full of what I am not? That is the moral question.
I cannot give up, sit and let everything hang out and say ‘After all, tomorrow is another day.’ I am not Buddha or Scarlett O’Hara though I would love to say, ‘Frankly my dear, I don’t give a damn. Having said all this, I do feel better. Maybe a bit of Scarlett’s spirit have seeped into me though I’ve never gotten so bored I could scream.
Now, I can push through some of the doldrum. Or is it fatigue? I can see the light at the end of the tunnel as they say. I am finding a few words. I have been away from the keyboard too long. It’s difficult to recover the rhythm of my tap, tapping. I’m adrift from my thoughts and intuits. You do lose what you don’t use. I must unlock my limbs now and rise above it all. Tomorrow will be another today. Tap. Tap. Tap.
It is Saturday and bitterly cold. It’s a good time to gather around the Friday Fictioneers. We like to tell stories of 100 words to a photo prompt. We are hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields of Addicted to Purple. Here’s my story this week.
She stopped. Her footsteps reverberated in the staircase. She could hear the echo of other footsteps beneath her own. She stood motionless till all was quiet except for the pounding of her heart.
Someone was following her. She took a breath, letting it out slowly. She climbed a step. Then another. She heard the faint sound of feet below her and felt the vibrations of another hand on the rail. Was her mind playing tricks on her?
Another step. She reached for the door. No more stairs. Next time, the elevator. She felt a rush of air behind her. No…
Here it is, Sunday afternoon and I’ve finally penned my 100 words for Friday Fictioneers. We like to tell stories of 100 words or so to a photo prompt. Our host is Rochelle Wisoff-Fields of Addicted to Purple. Anyone can join in.
She had no choice. That was her only consolation. 5 hours to the airport. She started a conversation. Was she sorry!
She squirmed uncomfortably, willing the woman to shut up and move her fat thigh. No such luck. Tears were rolling down her cheeks as she continued the saga of her boyfriend.
Felicia glanced at the skinny dude on her right. He looked equally uncomfortable, jammed against the door. But at least he didn’t have the console up his butt.
She shifted again, using her hand on the car ceiling. A little better. Two more hours. One hour and fifty-nine, fifty….
It is Sunday of the new year. I’m a little late for the ball but what the heck. Better late than not showing up. So here’s my story for the Friday Fictioneers. We are storytellers of 100 words or so. We are hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields of Addicted to Purple. Here’s this week’s photo prompt.
She saw the coffee shop as soon as she emerged from the subway station. It was exactly where he had said. She stood for a moment then walked to the door. It was now or never.
She scanned the room quickly. The faces were all blurry. Her breath was ragged and her heart thumped.
“Slow down. Take your time.” She scolded herself.
“May I help you?” A waitress came up.
“I’m meeting someone.”
“Do you want to walk through to see?”
“Thank you. I don’t know what he looks like. I haven’t met him before.”
2015 is over. We are into the second day of 2016. There has been no big bang. No celebration. None that I’ve felt nor seen anyways. It’s disappointing in a way but it’s all good. It’s a slow comfortable ease from the old into the new. Let me celebrate it now with my words and pictures. Let me draw back the curtain and close the door. Let there be no distractions while I sit in the STILLNESS of last year’s word and think about the ORDER I want in the coming year.
My tea is made. I am ready to sit in silence and look backyards to what I have left behind. It is peaceful here looking out to what was. What was fell short of my intentions of stillness. It happens. Shit and failure can happen. I see that now. I am not that powerful. I am not in control of the Universe. I cannot wave my magic wand and make VOILA! happen. I can’t even tell you a good fairy tale.
What I can tell you is that the stillness I intended and longed for is here within me now. In this moment as I am tapping out my words, I feel its presence within. I look up and I can feel my ancestors looking down on me. I hear a whisper. ‘Be still and you will find order in your life.’