So, I've spent the last few days engaged in stimulating conversations with good friends; meeting baby gulls (OK, they did shit and vomit on me but were still cute); seeing bats and - unexpected bonus - a hobby and a badger; running in fields; sitting under trees; feeding (some) crows; earning money; ticking things off the to do list; applying for and getting accepted on a writing workshop; being given an unexpected day's work in a week or so's time; reading; formally exiting the dreaded; not forgetting important birthdays and writing this blog.
All sounds pretty positive, right?
Oh no: I'm too tired; I'm scared; will I have enough money?; will volunteering work out?; was dropping the dreaded the right thing to do?; how the hell do I get to a studio in Goldhawk Road?; how much is the ultra low emissions tax and how do I pay?; will I cope?; I'm even more tired!; why can't MY mind be empty?; why isn't anyone making me dinner?; is the baby cat ill?; am I a bad cat parent?; will I ever be a dog parent? how did I fuck up the horses so badly?; I don't know enough!; nobody likes me!; everyone thinks I am crap!; I'm sure I've offended two dear friends; how on earth can I cope?; why aren't I better?; how can I be better?; I'm too tired to be better!; what do I want?; is that bad?; who am I?; is THAT bad?
Yep.
So. What do I do? Pour wine and write. Pour wine and read. Go to bed with the cats and read the rather excellent Boudica: Dreaming the Eagle - all the while rather hating the author who gets messages from the cosmos, writes books, was a vet and is a shaman. Annoying. Bet she's not in the frying pan.
I took this photo, as it happens, because I don't fry much and the pan had one or two Jabi hairs in it. Maybe that didn't improve my mood.
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