Tag Archives: moodiness

50 Ways of Leaving

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Paul Simon’s 50 Ways of Leaving Your Lover has been playing in my head lately. It’s August and I’m moody again, or still. It is one of the things I like to leave behind. But Simon does not really give you 50 ways of leaving. I counted only 3. What a liar.

You just slip out the back, Jack
Make a new plan, Stan
You don’t need to be coy, Roy
Just get yourself free
Hop on the bus, Gus
You don’t need to discuss much
Just drop off the key, Lee
And get yourself free
Ooh, slip out the back, Jack
Make a new plan, Stan
You don’t need to be coy, Roy
You just listen to me
Hop on the bus, Gus
You don’t need to discuss much
Just drop off the key, Lee
And get yourself free

It is possible to leave a lover but unfortunately it is not so easy to leave myself. I yam who I yam, says Dr. Seus. But I could make a new plan. I’ve been trying to do that for how long now? Procrastination is another thing that I want to leave. The thing is I’ve been slipping out the back and hopping on the bus for a long time. Now I have to stop and make a new plan. How often have I said that already? It’s hard to believe myself. I am getting quite angry over it plus other things I don’t want to bring to light.

Anger can be a good catalyst to blast me out of my moodiness and procrastination. It got me out the door and tackled the creeping bellflower problem in my front yard. It is amazing how much energy it gave me. In less than an hour, I pulled a few of those creepy bellflowers and poured a bag of last year’s leaves and a bag of smelly grass clippings over the bad areas. Now it is looking like this. Not too bad, eh?

I’ve found a good article on how to stop procrastination. Not that I haven’t read anything on the subject before, but….At least I’ve written this post. Have been trying for days. I have paid insurance policy on the house and registered for an online class – President’s Lecture Series: Curing the World’s Diseases. These are a few things I’ve done to feel good about. I’m not totally stagnant.

TAPPING MY WORDS SOFTLY

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It is the evening of the day. Bits and pieces of songs play in my head. It IS the evening of the day. It is 10:07 pm on a Friday night. There is no music playing or soft candle light. Nobody at the bar mixing me a drink. There is no bar. It is only me under my own overhead lights in my own space, tapping softly my inadequate words, not exactly singing my life with my own words. For every step I take forward, I slide back two. Or so it seems.

I’m tired and cantankerous. I should put my head in the toilet for 7 minutes like Caroline Myss advices. The cold water would surely snap me out of it. But I am too bad-tempered and uncooperative. I WON’T do it. I want to stomp my feet and have a fit but how would that benefit me? Exactly! Hence, here I sit with my keyboard. I hope to tap away my moodiness. It would be nice to go to sleep and wake up with a clean mind, erased of all ire.

I should really cut myself some slack. I’ve had a full day, week, month, year….I’ve had a full life. I could do with a little less of everything. My mind is overflowing with thoughts. It’s never in the moment. This morning I couldn’t remember if I had closed the garage door when I was going to the pool. I circled back to find that I had. I lost 15 minutes of swimming time. Not life or death but I drove as it was. Then I swam as it was, trying to get those 15 minutes back. In this case, it was okay. I got an aerobic workout swimming like the dickens. I would rather have my old slow poke self back. It was more restful.

That not being the case, I made use of my unusual super-charged energy. Besides swimming like an athlete, I made my usual 6 loaves of bread and a large pan of rhubard crisp. I planted more beans and all my tomatoes. I dragged Sheba around the block just before supper. I’m feeling super hyper just tapping about my day, as if I’ve drank a can of Red Bull. Not that I ever have but my heart is pounding just thinking of it.

I’m slowing my fingers, slowing my thoughts, slowing my heart. I’m taking some slow big breaths. Good night. Mr. Sandman is calling me.