Wednesday, October 14, 2015
Running down. a dream
That was a Tom Petty song if I remember correctly (the title), except I added the period.
I have always tried to post helpful and positive stuff on the blog (for the most part). Sometimes it just doesn't seem worth it. Lately I've been having to mine stuff I've read, or share random tidbits that don't mean anything. I have thoughts rummaging through my brain all day and sometimes all night, though, and they just don't seem helpful. But there they are. They're a' runnin' me down.
I rolled around in bed from about 4-6 am this morning with a whole boat load of blog titles and subjects striving for attention. I try my best to ignore them or turn them into something better, but maybe I need to just own them; quit worrying about what everyone thinks; stop trying to be helpful.
I'm not very helpful, by the way. I know. I'm a dreamer without a dream. Hopefully it's just temporary, but... it seems I've been saying that for awhile. I get fragments, but they soon fall to pieces as my confidence sinks and my blood turns back to blue.
I am in sort a of running flux at the moment too. I've run once or twice after the 15-miler, and my right calf started bothering me - at the top of the achilles. I read up on it, and it sounds like an injury I want to avoid at all cost, so I've been icing, massaging, and resting it. I'm thinking the marathon dream is dead.
I try to convince myself that things like this don't matter. I'm having trouble finding something that does though; something I can maintain a passion for.
Sometimes I think everyone I am around is just as depressed about life as I am. Either that or I simply have that affect on people and they're only like that when around me. Ugh. I'm not really even depressed. I just don't seem to... care.
So, my guitar sits beside the desk here, and it goes unplayed. I could strum a chord or two, but then I'd grow tired of it. My legs are tired so they don't run. The motorcycle sits out back and I'm too afraid to ride it. Ideas about church and Jesus simmer in thoughts of futility because who wants to listen to an aging blue fish out of water. It's not really that I'm all that old. Shoot, I'm not yet 53 and that's relatively young in the grand scheme of life... But I feel old; and useless; and hopeless.
I'm a dreamer without a dream. That's what I am. Today. And so it goes...