Saturday, July 21, 2012
Down and Not Quite Out in Middle-Age
I'm not the first middle-aged curmudgeon to bitch and moan about such things, and I won't be the last. I am just as powerless as my peers to do anything about it as well. Just sit back and let it all be, but I'll complain about it too. That's how I roll.
My own attention span seems to shrink like an Amazon rainforest, month to month, day to day, hour to hour. By the time I'm ready for diapers again, I'll have the focus of heavily caffeinated gnat, unless the depression helps me balance out into something like more of a flatliner with frequent brain jolts. Most of my thoughts these days are centered around doing things I haven't the motivation or stamina to actually accomplish. I have mental "To Do" lists of cleaning, writing, painting, exercising, cooking and learning but the exhaustion keeps me grounded in a chair, the joint pain and back pain and foot pain makes it difficult to move and the overwhelmingness of it all knocks me down when I start to gather the strength to move a finger. I'll just sit it out. This too shall pass. Tomorrow I'll get up and get things done. I ain't been licked yet. Ms Ross sang that one, kids. Google it.
Hell, I have things to do and things to say. These damn young 'uns, I'm not going to let them take over the world just yet. We are going to have to share for a bit longer. You go and do your hot yoga. I'll just figure out a way to get up off my ass. We shall live again, we shall live again.