a Stream of Consciousness

I wanted to write something on my blog today, but I couldn't come up with anything pithy, having used up a bunch of ideas for the upcoming A to Z Challenge.  So, I thought I'd try one of those stream of consciousness exercises one reads about in books about writing.  A constant stream of words, without much attention paid to sentence structure or punctuation, just letting the words come as fast as my hands can fly over the keyboard, which isn't terribly fair, since I type rather slowly.  Although it may be fair afterall, since I also think rather slowly.

We have a busy day ahead of us - the Bean is out not on some ice slides constructed for Ottawa's annual winter festival know as Winterlude.  Then she comes home, we eat a quick bite and then off to guitar lessons.  After guitar, back home for a more substantial bite to eat and then off to skate at the Canal with her Brownie troop, or whatever they're called.

Of course, this means I will miss - for the third year in a row - Hockey Day in Canada, including the Sens versus the Oilers.  Thankfully we have PVR, though.  We'll watch the game when we get home.

Despite the busy schedule, I feel a profound sense of ennui - nothing we're doing today feels right - more burden than pleasure.  I look forward to getting out of this funky funk funk.  Days go by with me doing nothing but the absolute minimum I need to do.  Even the most trivial task, like brushing my teeth is energy depleting.  Wrting this is depleting. 

I suppose I should be grateful, though, since I am significantly more functional than many suffering from depression.

On a completely different note, I am looking forward to getting some snow meltage.  I am tired of stomping around in heavy boots and having perpetually dirty pants from rubbing up against my salt encrusted minivan, getting splashed with brown road sludge and otherwise being splattered.

I should end this drivel with something positive, so I will note that my proficiency with the guitar is increasing, slowly but surely (don't call me Shirley - anyone remember that scene from Airplane?  How about "Timmy, have you ever been to a Turkish bath house?") with each passing week.  I still - mostly - find the daily energy to practice.  I still usually look forward to our lessons and the follwoing week of pushing our ability that little bit extra.

Well, that's it my friends.  I apologize for making you read this nonsense, but a guy's gotta do what a guy's gotta do.

Peace.

Geoff