I am bored and restless.  The warehouse bay doors are open and the air is pouring in, all fresh and springy and smelling like grass and dirt and sunshine, cool breezes and all things outdoorsy.  I wish I was out there, lying in the grass, soaking up all that sunshine and birdsong; not stuck at a desk typing away at a computer.  I take my headphones off and put them back on half a dozen times, trying to find something to listen to, but none of the audiobooks I find catch my interest, my MP3 player’s batteries are dead.  My feet are hot and itchy and I can’t focus, I keep mistyping words.  I feel like in elementary school, when it was hot in the late afternoon and the windows were open but no breeze was coming in, and you would stare out at the playing field, the grass dry and motionless, the sky dull blue and everything weighted down by early June, the sound of bees and lawnmowers buzzing faintly in through the window.  You would want to just lay down on your desk and fall asleep, but couldn’t, and so would prop your head up with your chin and stare and maybe doodle stars in the  margin of your notebook and hope not to get called on.  The teacher’s voice would be a drone, like the sound of the lawnmower or the bees, and time would go slowly, almost as slowly as if it stood still.  I feel that lethargic, that lazy and dull.

I’ve been feeling lethargic like that a lot lately – stuck and restless and unable to focus or be content.  I stopped exercising because I was lazy, and I was sick, and I was too tired; and the longer it went on, the worse it felt.  I finally went for a walk again yesterday and felt such a jolt of energy and goodwill all afternoon; and I have to keep reminding myself today how good that felt, how good it will feel to get out there and walk again today.  But, really, I just want to go drape myself across one of the patio chairs and read and be still and silent.  I feel like everything is on standstill, or sliding by so slowly that it’s not sliding by at all, but dripping in slow motion, like how when you turn the nearly-empty syrup bottle upside down and have to wait fifteen minutes for anything to come out.  The hours are like that, syrupy slow drips; and then I look back and wonder where all the days have gone. 

 There is such a sameness to life right now – get up, get dressed, work, come home, dinner, dishes, bed – and the rhythm isn’t so much comforting as stifling.  I want something more, I want to feel energized and ready to start my day, I want to look forward to the minutes stretched ahead of me.  I want my life to start, and I know it’s up to me to start it, but I don’t know where to begin.  All these changes I’ve made – the exercise, the keeping up with chores, going to school, etc. etc. – all of it isn’t changing anything, not anything real.  The fundamental base of my life is still exactly the same, and I’m just waiting for it to change – to finish school and find a new job that excites me, to lose enough weight that I can go buy clothes that make me squeal with excitement, to start living my life instead of existing inside of it like it’s a bubble and I’m just being carried along.

 God, that sounds so utterly pathetic and miserable, or like I’m depressed and close to ending it all or something; and it’s not that bad, really.  It just feels flat and dull and I want something more.  Maybe it’s spring fever?  Maybe the warm weather is bringing it out?  Maybe I just need a new hobby.  Or to blog more often instead of playing Spider Solitaire.