Today, my mind feels unsettled. I am irritable, though I can’t pinpoint a cause, and it’s aggravating. I made myself some tea, which soothed me somewhat, but I still resent my thoughts turning against me. I plan to eat soon—hopefully, a meal will steady me and improve my mood.
The power keeps glitching, and every time it does, my UPS and computer shut off. It’s getting really frustrating—hard to focus on coding when the power keeps going out. Alex called from his grandpa’s house, and they’ve lost power too. I wish I were in a better mood, but the outages definitely aren’t helping.
It’s lunchtime, and I had a sandwich. The food is lifting my mood a little—I don’t feel as low as I did this morning. Kel and I went to get the mail, and it turns out I have a package waiting at the post office. The catch is, I need to pay them 53 cents before they’ll release it. Sigh. This tariff business is such a hassle, especially since the package consists of just stickers—stationery, nothing big.
It’s hard to write when I feel like this—sluggish and low. Oddly enough, coding has been easy to focus on today, but everything else feels like a struggle. With Alex at his grandpa’s house, the house is unusually quiet. A distraction wouldn’t be so bad; it helps keep me from getting lost in my head. I think I’ll make myself some matcha soon. A warm cup of tea might be just what I need to lift my mood.
I would think that feeling this way, that the words will just pour out of me — like a faucet turned on too fast. Today is not one of those days. I sit with the page open and my mind feels like a room with the lights off: familiar furniture, but I can’t make out the edges. I want to say something honest, warm, clear, but all I get is a soft, stubborn silence.
It’s strange to feel low and still be surprised by it. I tell myself I’ll start with one sentence. My hands hover over the keyboard like they forgot the shape of the keys. I tell myself it’s okay to write badly, to write tiny fragments, to write lists — anything that moves the air a little.
My paragraphs have been short today, just a few sentences at a time. I’ve been working on putting together a spreadsheet of the books I’ve read, pulling the list from Goodreads so I can track my reading stats. It’s coming along slowly, but I like seeing it take shape. I set myself a challenge to read 20 books this year, and so far I’ve only finished six. I’m on my seventh now, but overall it feels like a slower reading year than usual.
I scrolled all the way back on my Instagram today. My very first post was from January 13, 2013—it was of Lancaster Blvd. That made me laugh. My third picture was of Sandy, which feels fitting.
Oh wait, I just remembered—I need to make some brown rice for Tommy’s lunch tomorrow. It takes forever to cook, and I really don’t want to be stuck waiting on it tonight. Last time I didn’t get to bed until 11 p.m. because of it.
Anyway, I’ll post this now. I’m starting to feel a little better.
