That's what my life feels like lately, a collection of crumbs, from various sources, collected on a plate. Or possibly petite fours. That's a nicer image, isn't it? Little bits of things, but nothing substantial. I've been working very hard at my "real" job (the one that allows me to pay the bills) but I feel like I don't have very much to show for it. I've been productive these past few days, more so than I sometimes am (and recently have been) but less so than I would like to be. I leaned that I have to be out of the office for two days next week, which will take me away from the projects that I really want to be working on and set me to a task that I loathe. Today an office manager came into our section rip-roaring mad about something that I personally had nothing to do with whatsoever, and though I was not the specific target of the tirade (which I think, in the end, turned out to be a mountain made out of a mole hill) I got the very real sense that I might be caught up in the blame game simply because I work in that section. It is a strain.

I come home every day exhausted, and though there are hours yet before dark now (when we aren't suffering weather of antediluvian proportions) I get very little done. I cook sometimes. (Eastover dinner was wonderful, but took all day.) I bake. Yesterday I made bread that turned out well in the end but took hours longer and necessitated my staying up far later than I had intended. The dough would not rise. Or rather, it rose, but very slowly. It occurs to me now, 24 hours later, that I forgot to add the sugar to the yeast at the beginning. That would do it. The resultant bread is tasty (but firm) and I find myself wondering if it is worth it to home-cook things to save money when it costs so much in time.

I planted a mango seed today, though Victoria still languishes on the counter. It took me two days to get around to it. The tiny wildflower seedlings that have sprouted during the past few weeks are languishing; they are probably going to die for lack of warm temperature and sunshine. We have been almost twenty degrees below average for over a week. It doesn't promise to improve quickly enough for me.

I've been knitting a little here and there. A few rows on the mystery shawl with the earthy yarn, but not enough to warrant a photo shoot. Ditto on Absorba the Wonder Rug. I finished another washcloth/dishcloth, but wonder if I knit a pleasing number of rows and pattern repeats, or it will be ridiculous in either its proportions or size (or both). I haven't washed it yet though, so again, no photo. It was supposed to be part of a Christmas present. Last Christmas. No progress on the elfines either, none, and what's worse, I have discovered a mistake about 1 1/2 pattern repeats back from the cuff. You can see it in the photo if you look carefully - 1/2 of a pattern repeat repeated. I don't know if I have the heart to rip it back. And starting the second sock seems so hard. Nothing else is on the needles. Not a single thing.

I find it difficult to write. It used to be easy, a veritable deluge of words would pour out of my head, though my pen and onto the paper. This was before the days of "easy Internet". I had long conversation with friends and family through letters alone. Now, the ease of the Internet has made it harder to communicate. I feel like I have nothing to say. Even writing about the opera is difficult, because though thoughts swirl excitedly through my head after each performance, each new work heard, each exciting artist discovered, I find it difficult to put them down in words. I have commented only lightly on other's blogs (my apologies). I have not written on my thesis in months. I feel like I have lost my path, and sometimes I think that maybe I never was on one in the first place.

My apologies if this seems like a self-absorbed rant. It is. I have no excuse. But I have no other outlet really, except my roommate, and how much whining should one person be asked to endure, really? I have a feeling I may need to engage in this more and more in the future, reader be forewarned.


At 1:06 AM, Blogger Opal said...

If you can't rant on your own blog, where can you rant? No apologies are necessary. I do hope you come out of your "funk" soon though.

At 3:43 AM, Blogger peaknits said...

Sometimes I think you have to get right down in the "trenches" and look at things. It's okay to be self examiner wherever you feel like it - it says "I'm not satisfied with where I am at right now and wantcha to know it" - good to have this place to go to write it out - I agree with opal - if you can't rant here, where can you? Hope you figure out what is keeping you from your path! take care!

At 5:37 PM, Blogger Ginny said...

Sometimes it takes getting it out to get past it. I think you should take as much blogspace as you need to figure out what you need.

I'll be thinking of you, and I hope you find the path that's right for you.

At 6:04 PM, Blogger The_Add_Knitter said...

I agree with Opal, this is why you have a blog. I really enjoyed this post because it seemed therapeutic for you. Believe me, I know a lot about work related stress and it can really take a toll. I'm glad you have things like opera, knitting and cooking to fill your life with things that you truly enjoy. I have been in a funk myself recently, I feel like I've taken three steps backwards in my life and I don't even know why. Personally, I blame the weather!!

At 9:52 AM, Blogger Diane said...

A little unprofessional of your office manager I'd say. Hope you start to feel a little better.

At 7:46 PM, Blogger Rebecca M. said...

The elfine sock is beautiful - and no one would ever notice the mistake. I think rants should be required - certainly more cleansing and cheaper than therapy!


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