Nothing momentous to report. I'm writing this mainly because I'm done with all the usual stuff I do at my computer in the mornings but I don't want to leave cyber-land.
Why am I up so early? I got up at 7 a.m. because Onyx was being a total butt head, chewing on my ear and digging his claws into my neck. I could have just thrown him out of the room and gone back to sleep, but I had to pee and after that I decided I was hungry so I got up.
I'm hungry again already. That often happens when I haven't had enough sleep.
Mop the kitchen--it really needs it, but I don't want to do that. I never want to do that. Mopping is my nemesis. I think it's been four months since the last time I mopped in there (good thing we have slate grey tiles so the dirt doesn't show!) and a year since I mopped the hardwood floors. There; I've confessed to being a poor housekeeper.
Read. Don't really feel like doing that either, but it's an option.
Practice my flute. I've been into doing that lately. I've finally reached the point where practicing is a joy to me and not something I dread and I'm seeing vast improvement. M. and I play and sing together almost every night, too. Sometimes we do well, sometimes not so well. We have a tentative goal of putting enough of a set together that we could play at the Grand Junction Ren Faire at the end of the summer, but if that doesn't materialise that's okay too.
Anyway, it seems too early to practice somehow. My usual time is two, two-thirty-ish. I find it helps to stick with that routine.
I wonder sometimes about my lack of significant thought. Other people I know who write blogs always seem to have a theme, something to say that's relevant. I don't. I just drift along most of the time and keeping this blog is a random occurrence. I suppose that's why I call it "Random Mutterings."
But then, I don't have a life, do I? My pdoc brought that up, not the last time I saw him, which was just a few days ago, but the time before last. He said, "How can you have anything to talk about if you don't do anything?" My friend S. and I decided he must be a classic Meyers-Briggs "S" type personality, to think that only concrete things matter in conversation. But sometimes I wish I had more of a life. I'd like to do more. Take an art class, for example. I'd like very much to take another dance class, if there were one taught by an instructor I really trusted.
That's the problem with living where I do. I know most of the people here and, face it, except for a few, I don't like or trust them very much. Many seem to be stuck in a party-hearty state which I passed through in my late teens. I just don't find I have anything to discuss with them. And the ones I'd like to know better are all in hiding, as am I.
This is not to discount the fact that I am naturally quite shy and aloof. Maybe it's all my problem. Maybe if I gave other people another chance I'd find someone I really hit it off with. But the last two times I got burned were pretty severe strikes to my self-confidence and now I just don't want to deal...
For the most part I'm happy with my Internet life. But there's a problem with my closest friend being in San Francisco and others being scattered around the globe. You just can't go out and get a cup of coffee with the Internet. I guess you kind of could, but it isn't the same as sitting in a coffee shop and chatting with someone you really feel close to.
I'm sleepy now. Maybe it's time to try to take a nap...