Shallow Things

I have resolved to write only about shallow things here until the end of the semester. I'm tired of my own bile. I soak in it all day, and then I spew it out in an occasional blog post, and I spew it out in my journal, and I spew it out to the Gentleman Caller, and I spew it out to my analyst. Yet, it goes no where. I keep secreting it and drowning in it. Then, I feel guilty for not keeping it to myself, for showing this ugly side of myself to the world who will then reject me as disgusting and unworthy of...well, whatever it is that I am unworthy of, and, let's face it, in that state you feel you are unworthy of pretty much everything.

Such fun!

Anyway, after writing two shallow posts and also after letting myself just read a damn novel in bed at night (I always feel so guilty if I do something nice like that, rather than do something for work when I feel so behind on work), I realized that perhaps I require some space where I can escape from the bile. Escape into a story, escape into a silly post, escape somewhere without bile -- or without my own bile. I envision it like coming up for air (which switches the bile metaphor, but whatever).

Thus, the resolution to write shallowly to warm up, and then into the rest of my day.

I suppose I could do the same with the research writing. I mean, I do, but there is a difference between journal writing and blog writing and research writing. The journal is simply stream of consciousness. The blog is pretty much the same but with more structure and an awareness of the audience. The research writing requires focus and concentration, two things that disappear as the semester progresses. How on earth do other people maintain enough focus and concentration to even read? I feel the onset of ADD by noon on most days, and I don't even have ADD! Throw in enough coffee and you can add the H in there, too.

This shallow writing is my new strategy to calm myself, like a meditation, but without going too deep. Feel free to take bets on how long it lasts. Put me down for two posts.

Still, usually by this time in the semester, working out has also fallen by the wayside and I've taken up heavy weekend drinking and replace actual meals with Reese's Peanut butter Cups (they do have peanut butter and milk in them, so they are sort of healthy, right?). I'm still working out, eating right, and haven't touched the Halloween candy. I confess, however, that I have started drinking again on the weekends, but not heavily. I also must confess that I do commit the sin of coveting my grocery store's Halloween candy display, too. You can find me pacing up and down, salivating, like a tiger at the zoo watching a flock of first graders on a field trip.

All of this is to say that, maybe, I can stay in the shallow end of my psyche for a while and try to maintain my sanity -- and by "sanity" I mean keep myself out of the deep, dark, existential funk that also plagues me -- for just a little bit longer.

Incidentally, last week my analyst noted that I used the metaphor of "death" quite a bit. I had noticed it, too. Not a good sign. This week, I seem to be using the metaphor of "sanity" and "insanity," meaning the states of "not being depressed" and "being depressed". By "depressed" I mean that state of wanting to run around shrieking and yelling until you collapse into a quivering lump of sobs, followed by near catatonia. "Sanity" versus "insanity," however, seems an improvement over "dead" and "alive", don't you think?

Now, I wonder what next week's metaphor will be.