It’s 10:55 AM. Monday, December 4th. And I’m dancing. I know you can’t see it. Probably good that you can’t.
[Hand lotion]
Sorry — that’s hand lotion. Cold weather. If you don’t put it on a lot, the skin at the tips of my thumbs cracks, and that is unpleasant. After dealing with my last bout of cracked skin, I’ve become more diligent.
What’s to say about today? It’s sunny. It was negative seven Celsius when I woke up — I’ll let you do the conversion, but I think that equals cold. Had a nice weekend. Made some arrangements for my flat move, which will be next Sunday. Something I’m excited about.
I’m very comfortable in this flat, and I enjoy it, but every time I go out, I’m cognizant of the fact that it takes an extra 15 to 20 minutes to get into the mix. And because I hole up — I don’t need any barriers between me and the mix. I need to be able to walk out my door and break the solitude that I impose on myself sometimes.
I noticed a pattern with this, even this summer. This paralysis sets in. It often happens on weekend afternoons or evenings. Doesn’t really happen on days when I get a lot of work done — by the time evening rolls around, I’m ready for a break, grab some food, do whatever. But those weekend days where I might do a little work, do some household things, and then hit a period where I’ve run out of things to do and have nothing on my calendar. I find myself sitting on the couch with this uncomfortable feeling of stasis and disengagement.
The bitch of that is what comes with it: decision paralysis. Do I want to get something to eat? Yeah, kind of, but I can’t decide. Do I want to go down here? Do I want to go down there? Do I want to give someone a ring? Nothing really sounds good. I don’t think this is unusual — I think everybody gets struck by this sometimes. But I’ve found the only solution is just to go outside. Just get the hell out of the apartment and go for a walk. That unlocks something.
I was in exactly that state of mind this summer before I made that two-night trip out into the countryside by train. Literally sitting in the flat thinking: I shouldn’t feel uninspired and dull and indecisive — look where I am, look at what I have at my fingertips. I’d never done that before — never just gone to the train station, picked a town, and hopped on a train. When I lived here before, I had Bodhi, my dog, so there was a little more friction with those kinds of trips. We’d go on our walks around the city. But anyway, I was in one of those moments — just, god, get the hell out of here. Threw stuff in a bag, went to the train station, had the time of my life. That’s when I picked up the signal: you’re not supposed to figure it out here. You’re just supposed to get off your ass and get outside.
I had that this weekend. Hit me on Saturday. The weather was nasty, but I — what did I do anyway?
Oh, I wound up making dinner on Saturday. Friday I went to the climbing gym with Martin, Julia’s boyfriend. Haven’t been to the climbing gym in ages. It was fun. And scary. It didn’t take long for my forearms to lock up — I just couldn’t grip anything, which is a strange feeling. I watch those competition shows on TV and people talk about getting to that point when their muscles start locking up and not responding. I’m like: oh come on, how hard can it be? And then I take two routes on the wall and suddenly my forearms are like blocks of wood. Reminded me to have some appreciation for those struggling with the limits of their physical abilities.
Right in the middle of our session, Martin had to duck out to pick up his car from a shop nearby. When we’d discussed it, he said he’d be gone half an hour, come back, and we’d climb some more. My instinct would have been: okay, we’ve climbed for an hour and a half, you’ve got an errand — let’s just call it a day. But he was intent on getting more climbing in. Did I want to come along or hang out?
I went with him. The weather was late-afternoon gray, chilly, raining. Maybe two or three Celsius. To me that’s the worst — I’d much rather it be three below and snowing than that damp rain. But I was delighted to be out in it, because normally I wouldn’t go.
We walked about 15 minutes, caught a train across the river, got off in far north Buda, walked some more. The ground was still slushy and snowy, raining, both of us with umbrellas getting fairly wet — windy too, but the wet didn’t soak through. We walked down through a neighborhood that was sparsely developed. A lot of auto shops around, which I kept clocking — maybe that’s the one, oh maybe that’s the one. Giant cemetery to our left.
We found the mechanic. Very typical shop. The guy was friendly but didn’t speak English — Martin is Czech, doesn’t speak Hungarian. I understood him a little better. Figured out he needed an address for the invoice. Sorted that and got out.
Drove back to the climbing gym — dark now. All my instincts: time to go home, forearms are killing me. But we went back in. I climbed another couple of routes. Only made it to the top on one. I kind of threw in the towel when I was on an easy route and there was a ten-year-old boy on the intermediate route next to me, just flying up the wall. I got a third of the way up and fell off. Twice. Just couldn’t grip anything. I think his mom was looking at me like: what a loser. Anyway — that wrapped up Friday night. Long tangent.
Saturday, I broke the paralysis somehow. I know I went out looking for food, couldn’t decide what to eat, nothing scratching the itch, so I came home and made dinner. I went down to the — oh, I know what I did. I went down to the — no, that was last night. I don’t know. This is going nowhere.
Anyway. Now it’s Monday and I’ve got that antsy anxiousness — lot of work to do, stay disciplined, allocate time properly, get this stuff done. And it’s like a poison. That state of mind is such a poison. The weekday anxiety. Because I get so much done when I’m just in the flow, working on things best suited to my energy level throughout the day. Oh, I’ve got a little less inspiration right now? I’ll just go do some editing and pull some selects. Not try to be too creative.
If I choose to work on a Saturday, I just get into that state of mind and everything flows. End of the day: I got in a little writing, did some editing, did my laundry, cleaned the kitchen, knocked out those two phone calls, wrote that email. And I’m like — and I wasn’t even supposed to do anything today. It’s Saturday. I haven’t figured out how to capture that mindset and replicate it during the week. My weekday/weekend disparity is meaningless in theory — I just work, I work a lot. But how do I get rid of that artificial barrier? Make every day a Saturday when I choose to work?
Been working on that for months. Haven’t cracked it yet.
There’s more, but I’m going to get back to work for now. Thanks for listening.
