The weather? Is that why I feel as if a wintry grey mood has descended on me?
Okay, I'm bruised. I'm still trying to recover from the election lies, attacks, ugliness -- the sense that my ideas of right and wrong, my sense of what's important, my vision of realities -- golly -- so many things I counted on are no longer to be trusted.
I was sort of recovering until I heard that the Republican candidate was stunned election eve, when he learned that he wasn't winning, and his campaign manager had to press him to make the phone call and concede the election. Oh boy, I was stunned, amused -- sneering ha-ha-serves you right, as I realized how blind the other guy had been. He allowed himself to avoid negative polls and commentators that said what he was promoting was hurting him, turning off voters.
It's made me wonder if my devotion to President Obama was/IS blindness. I need to listen to the criticisms and pay attention to the attacks on his competence.
I can't. I'm so glad he has a second term.
Okay -- it's water under the bridge. But what life in America might have been like if the other guy was president, still frightens me -- yes, scares me, (don't even want to type his name) -- how he tried to buy the election makes me aware of other things I am avoiding.
I don't feel hopeful or energized by my work, by a major project that John Cullum (my husband) and I have considered. It's a two-character play I'm writing, in which we create a video on stage, and dramatize what happens between the two of us that makes us what we are today.
It's a good idea! And yet I can't bring myself to work on it.
Dumb reasons, personal vanity -- I don't want to figure out how to wear my hair, my makeup, my costume. I don't want to focus on ME as a performer.
Those days are gone. I've changed, am changing. I am accustomed to being attractive, a mature, youngish-looking woman, and now I am an older woman. I look okay in our short videos, but I don't want to be onstage for an hour or so, being scrutinized, and revealing my age (whether I like it or not).
I'd rather write a book about aging, than perform right now as ME.
So I'm dealing with listlessness, despondency, a slump, and writing this post to explain, out loud to myself, why I'm stuck.
Solution? Sure! Cook, sew, paint, fix my hairdo, wear a little makeup every day for a while. That will make me feel better. Hey, I'm lucky -- when I was a very little girl, I learned secret that most females know -- wearing make up helps you feel better about yourself.
I've grabbed my eyeliner! I'm ready to look up, look around me and see what's pretty.
The bloody Sun, at noon,
No bigger than the Moon.
Day after day, day after day,
We stuck, no breath no motion;
As idle as a painted ship
Upon a painted ocean."
Thank you, Samuel Coleridge Taylor, for giving me those stanzas, from "Rhyme of the Ancient Mariner."