enfinblue's Bluey (credit to Fifi for the nickname!) Diaryland Diary

"I am seeking, I am striving, I am in it with all my heart." -Vinc3nt V@n Gogh

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pink tulips are still one of my favourites. I also need to buy an interesting bud vase at the florist's. I think a friend of mine is mad at me because I said that the last thing I need to replace my running with is a relationship

I slept in today, which was delightful--although I am supposed to be on a new plan of getting up with the rest of the world-if only to experience more daylight--and so I have obviously fallen off the wagon.

It's those assignments that drag on into the middle of the night that always do me in. But no more. I will banish them or simply do worse. I always say that I will stop at adequate with my assignments but I am a perfectionist so this does not work. I barely even look at the grades so that has nothing to do with it. The thing is that I am prideful; I can't bear to have anyone look at something crappy or average and then associate it with my name.

Now that's a sickness. It's also why I never left the office before 7-8 p.m. when I worked for, e.g., Foreign Affairs.

Wanting to produce quality is a good thing. But not living at the same time is obviously bad. I'll admit that it occurred to me to be 'grateful' for this episode with my leg, as I--inappropriately--walked to the video store (I should probably stay off it as much as possible) last night. If I hadn't cracked my femur I would be going about my business as always--treading water in isolation, hoping no one will notice, harbouring the same dreams that I have wavered over for too long. I've been in limbo, and like I suggested in the last entry I need a kick in the ass to get out of it.

Of course walking along, thinking about how good it is that I am forced to do things other that running for a prolonged period conjured a film strip in my head of beautiful runs that I have been on, and with beautiful people in my life. I have seen some great places. I have had moments of great feeling and hope. I just can't live in them forever. The longing for them feels good, however. Longing is one of the prettiest parts of life, I think, the thing that gets us up in the morning.

I wonder how often it happens to people that they reach some point in their thirties or forties, however, at which they begin believing that all of the best of their life is in the past. I know that I'm too young to have that feeling but I frequently do; everything from here is about acceptance and resignation.

But that's stupid. I must have the power to change this. I'm being stupid and melodramatic and inconsistent, particularly given the feelings that I experienced last weekend on my birthday. I hate talking directly to people about my problems. I feel that they--that I--don't deserve attention. Maybe that's why I write about them here: I've never had another outlet.

Bingo.

Anyhow. So I can't run. For now. And in a very outside case forever. So what. I can swim. I am a terrible swimmer but I love to swim. I love the weightlessness. I love the submersion, the other-worldliness of it. The isolation.

Which brings me back to the preceding paragraph.

I'm always suspended in the pain of failure and that makes me want to run away from people. I was in the library yesterday reading about lamprey osmoregulation and all I could think was that I will never be useful and accomplished like people who are doing serious scientific research.

And so the cycle begins again.

Today is not a day for moping. I've decided that today is a day for making lists and setting sensible, achievable goals for awakening new interests and new activities. There is no point in sitting around waiting to die. Today is as good a day as any to begin living again-- with or without running.

I'm going to go and pick up the paper. I picked up three movies last night: Talk to Her, My Father's Glory, and, finally, Breakfast at Tiffany's. I have quite a bit of work today but nothing terribly onerous if I am organized. I must figure out what lovely thing I will cook today.

I will start swimming next week. But I won't do what I used to do when I was injured and unable to run: start training in the pool. When I was in my first year of my Ph.D. studies and had the broken foot I would go to the pool twice a day. Twice a day! ACK. Talk about personal disfunction. Of course my training habits gradually weakened after that. But it is difficult to change a person who is driven by feelings of guilt and inadequacy.

Things are really not so bad as this. I'm actually feeling quite calm, reasonable, and, dare I say it, happy today. Although I am dressed like an Italian widow. I tend to look that way these days--all sombre with a bun and a lacy black bolero cardigan and black pants. Although I am wearing a low-cut pink top, which kind of breaks the stereotype.

I am not writing anything interesting here. And I promised that I would astonish myself and change and write about the true world as I experience it. Habits are very hard to break.

12:39 p.m. - 2006-05-20

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