Have you ever gone searching your brain, the internet, the encyclopedia, or otherwise for something witty, something clever and creative…only for any sort of concept to completely elude you? You are digging for inspiration, and turn up with sticks, stones, and pebbles, and devoid of any golden nuggets upon which to bank. Maybe this is a time when you’re feeling down and out, sick and tired, dogged and weary, like a soaking wet rat you drag yourself to safety, staring at the sky and wondering what you did to deserve this?! Despite the fact that you feel like a soggy sneaker, I call these times, “Dry Spells”. They are periods of time that leave me thirsty as your grandmother’s chapped lips.
Literally, it feels like nothing that you do is right and someone has cast some horrid spell or curse on you that is beyond your control.
I’ve gone through times like this that have seemed to last forever. In fact, it seems there have been many parts of my life in which I’ve danced in the wrong place at the wrong time, and found myself up a creek with a paddle but no but nor life jacket. I’ve wished for things to happen sooner than they were intended to, and I’ve jumped to my fair share of conclusions. Lord knows, I’ve counted eggs as chickens, before they were even in my basket!
I’ve always known it was important to stay awake, pay attention, and be aware. Sometimes though, it’s far more easy to close your eyes and drift off to the serenades of Steely Dan than to stay focused and plunge ahead. Everyone encourages you to stay positive, that it’s bound to happen, and that your ship will come in. They weave together cliché’s most expertly, simultaneously unraveling your every desire to live.
You’re sitting around bored as can be one minute, you’ve cleaned your kitchen floors 6,000 times and they’re past the point of sparkling. You’ve logged 900 miles of walking and running, you’ve made every recipe in your favorite recipe book, and called your mom over 100 times. You’re getting sick of you. She is getting sick of you. And you are getting sick of being sick of yourself.
And then, like a storm. You go from zero to sixty, in the time it takes a normal human to go zero to one. You barely have time to breathe, eat, check your email, and go to the bathroom.
Feast or famine. I’m hitting the ground running.