A less than beautiful mind
When I look inside my head, as I usually do about this time of day, and ask myself “what would I like to blog about today?” I often see many colorful suggestions, images and ideas pop to the forefront.
Sure, many of the suggestions that my monkey mind puts forth are so capricious they become either not appropriate or too complicated to write about in about 500 words, on average. But I can usually find one gem among the rubble and bring that to you, every weekday, on my blog.
Today, on my walk over to the cafeteria to grab a salad and rush back to my office in time for another conference call, when I turned inward for a good blog idea, what I got, instead of colorful confetti and suggestions of “poop!,” was resoundingly gray. Quiet. Lonesome.
As gray as the cubicle walls that line my office building.
As quiet as the dark winter clouds that have gathered over the Bay Area to lie down and weep cold rain on our heads.
As lonesome as New Mexico state highway 285 between Vaughan and Roswell.
When I looked inward, I discovered that my brain hurts.
For every company that’s ever employed me, December has always been a busy month. My current employer is no exception.
At five months into my new gig, I really like it a lot, and as I’ve begun to hit my stride, I have discovered that cute little word “global” in my title means my days begin in the UK, lunch with Sao Paulo, a quick break for the US, afternoon tea with Australia, early evening snack with Hong Kong and I am put down to bed for the night with India.
All on the phone. All day long. The UK to India run encompasses about twelve hours of my day.
Then I wake up and do it all again.
While this probably sounds like complaining, it’s really not. My job is fascinating and fun and really good stuff.
But I am *tired*.
In the interest of my own health, I’ve begun working out again. Nothing major, Jazzercise a couple times a week and a sashay on the treadmill a couple other days a week.
I found I need that exercise to build up my stamina so I can sustain these long days at work.
But all that exercise wears me out too.
And my blog, my beautiful, wonderful blog. It’s suffering too. My goal of a post every weekday stands firm. Then I go and miss a day (like yesterday) and I’ve got to climb back out of the hole.
So all of these words (about 430 so far) are just my way of saying I don’t have much to say.
For today, anyway. That quiet, gray, lonesome mind only lasts for a little while. Then my severe latent childhood will kick in, and I’ll figure out how to write another post about poop.
You can count on that.
Artist Heather Gorham‘s interpretation of the monkey mind