I'm out of it lately, just completely zoned, no writing (except for some well written filth that has been spewing out of pen due to an enforced lack of sex), no cooking, no jokes just... blah. It's like I'm watching the events of my life through a thin layer of glass, I'm very much living in my own head at the moment. These interludes aren't uncommon for me, they happen a few times a year with me withdrawing for a few weeks and then coming out with renewed energy and going like crazy until the next one descends. My mother even had a name for the she called them, as suburban as it sounds, "episodes" and I've done it since I was a small child.
My Therapist is convinced they're my way of coping with the world and events happening in my life (but, what would she know, I ask myself? She only has a degree and 10 years experience. Pffft). Realistically, she's probably right and so I've started meditating again (I know, how new-agey of me) and you know what? It's a load of shit. I have no patience for this shit. I can't sit still for 1 minute without tapping my fingers or fiddling with my hair, I can't fucking meditate. It's like asking speedy gonzalez to just walk for a bit. Not happening.
SO I'm going to try something a friend suggested. I'm joining a gym (dun, dun dun). I hate gyms, I have a bad history with them. I joined an all-female gym when I was 17 and that was awful, full of blonde sticks in bike shorts and here's me in the baggiest clothes I can probably find struggling to move faster than tortoise pace on the treadmill. And treadmills! Oh. My. God. Fucking treadmills. Being on a treadmill is like being a guinea pig in one of those wheels. Not only are they pointless, they just reiterate the message that I'M GOING FUCKING NOWHERE. When I was 20 I joined a gym that was open for both sexes and WOW was that an eye opener. Gyms with boys helped me get a work-out, unfortunately not the type that helps me lose weight and after getting busted uhh... working out... in the shower I was politely asked to leave.
And now, here I am, about to join another gym at 24 and praying to god that I'm strong enough to deal with whatever penises.. I mean problems are thrown my way.
So, dear readers, please send a thought my way when you realise that I am probably slogging it away on a treadmill or in a stupid pilatyogi class with some ridiculous blonde instructors whose tits are so high she's almost smothering herself, please send me a good thought (AND CHOCOLATE)
P.S I know I'm not the only one feeling a bit crazy, my friend Veronica is having a bad week, so show her some love. She deserves it more than anyone I know :)