Go out? Meh. Facebook? Scroll, scroll, meh. Twitter? scroll, hmm, meh. YouTube? Naah. Books? Hmm… not anything new. Lord of the Rings? Meh. Jeeves? Meh. Food? Meh. Wait, now this is bad. When I’m indifferent to the thought of food, I know I’m in a really bad mood. Rather, I’m grumpy; causelessly, needlessly grumpy, to tell the absolute truth.
There’s no real reason, just a series of small (and sometimes big) annoyances that keep adding up throughout the day, or the preceding days and/or weeks. Why do I let them add up? These things seem small enough to let go of at that time, only I subconsciously haven’t. And they build up to such an extent that I’m angry at the universe, or worse, in an apathetic funk, like “Who the hell cares, I don’t”.
Today seems like one of the latter. The “angry at the universe” mood is easier to get out of, I just have to read a funny book or article, or just go out and see how beautiful the world is, and I’m sorted out until the next time. Apathy is harder to deal with, for my friends especially. I’ll just be a blob on the couch until someone manages to move me into a car, then I’ll be a blob in the back seat. It’s amazing that I have any friends at all. Maybe it’s the challenge.
Oh great, now the phone’s ringing. I don’t feel like talking to anyone, so I turn off the ringer and reject the call with a message saying that I’ll call back. Nothing and no-one will lure me out of my pajamas tonight. Or this mood, apparently. So I write, about whatever is going on in my head. After venting out on paper for about an hour or so, I’m burnt out. While I was inflicting my woes on the unsuspecting paper, things that were truly trivial stood out as such; and now everything doesn't look so bleak and unworthy of any notice at all.
Now I’m hungry, and so I’ll make myself some nice spaghetti (I have only a few tomatoes in my fridge) and settle down with Wodehouse. Tomorrow will find me ready to take life head on, until an evening like this. Then, writing will come to my rescue again; because no matter how much my friends love and support me, they don’t deserve a grouch so very often.
There’s no real reason, just a series of small (and sometimes big) annoyances that keep adding up throughout the day, or the preceding days and/or weeks. Why do I let them add up? These things seem small enough to let go of at that time, only I subconsciously haven’t. And they build up to such an extent that I’m angry at the universe, or worse, in an apathetic funk, like “Who the hell cares, I don’t”.
Today seems like one of the latter. The “angry at the universe” mood is easier to get out of, I just have to read a funny book or article, or just go out and see how beautiful the world is, and I’m sorted out until the next time. Apathy is harder to deal with, for my friends especially. I’ll just be a blob on the couch until someone manages to move me into a car, then I’ll be a blob in the back seat. It’s amazing that I have any friends at all. Maybe it’s the challenge.
Oh great, now the phone’s ringing. I don’t feel like talking to anyone, so I turn off the ringer and reject the call with a message saying that I’ll call back. Nothing and no-one will lure me out of my pajamas tonight. Or this mood, apparently. So I write, about whatever is going on in my head. After venting out on paper for about an hour or so, I’m burnt out. While I was inflicting my woes on the unsuspecting paper, things that were truly trivial stood out as such; and now everything doesn't look so bleak and unworthy of any notice at all.
Now I’m hungry, and so I’ll make myself some nice spaghetti (I have only a few tomatoes in my fridge) and settle down with Wodehouse. Tomorrow will find me ready to take life head on, until an evening like this. Then, writing will come to my rescue again; because no matter how much my friends love and support me, they don’t deserve a grouch so very often.
