Monday morning and I decided to go in later than my usual Monday morning time–I don’t have to be there at seven-thirty if I am not working in the clinic, nor do I need to leave before five, so I made the executive decision last night to sleep an extra hour this morning and go in at eight-thirty instead and stay till five. So what if running errands after work now will get me home around six instead of five thirty? Again, these arbitrary “this is how you always do things” mentality, which is part of the whole anxiety issue and so forth, and trying to cope with it and defeat it.
I had dinner with my friend Ellen last night at San Lorenzo, in the old St. Vincent’s Orphanage that was turned into a very cheap hostel and then was completely renovated and reopened as a hotel with a nice restaurant and an outside pool bar. (St. Vincent’s was where they filmed Candyman II: Farewell to the Flesh many years ago.) I always wanted to write about St. Vincent’s; surely an old orphanage converted to a hostel would be haunted, or a great place to set a ghost story wrapped up in a mystery from the past. I do have a New Orleans ghost story I want to write set in my neighborhood. I don’t think I’m going to get to it any time soon, though. It’s been weird, writing has been very hard for lately, and I’m not feeling particularly inspired these days. It has been a rough year for one Gregalicious, of course; between my Mom and Scooter dying, my own health issues, and the long hot brutal dry summer (we’re still in a Burn Notice, or whatever it’s called) and we still haven’t gotten much rain as the Louisiana drought continues.
I started my reread of The Dead Zone yesterday, and it’s very well done. It was one of my favorite King novels for years; I have reread it dozens of times over the years since it was first released. King was on fire during the 1970s and 1980’s; he released one classic after another for years between Carrie and Misery; it wasn’t until The Tommyknockers that I can honestly say I read a King book I neither liked nor enjoyed. (Pet Sematary creeped me out so much I could never reread it; but that was my discomfort with the story and what it was about and I don’t think I was ready at that age for a lengthy exploration of grief and death; I may view it differently now. I always knew, for example, that “Don’t Look Now” was a meditation on grief and the loss of a child; but reading it in the wake of my own grieving process gave the story even more levels and layers than I originally recognized–and I already thought the story was genius. I watched another episode of Moonlighting–it really was marvelous when it was firing on all cylinders; everything worked and the chemistry and the writing and the acting was just aflame. When I got home from dinner Paul and I watched another episode of Elité, and are getting sucked into the story–it’s really a great soap, but it’s best days are still behind it, alas; I just have to recognize the show has changed and moved on from what it originally was–and I do appreciate the fact that characters grow up and graduate and move on….a lesson American shows (could and) should learn.
I feel rested and relaxed this morning for a change; that extra hour of sleep this morning certainly made a difference. Maybe I should recalculate when I come into the office? I’ve always come in at seven thirty since I went to this schedule so I can beat rush hour traffic home, but…do I really need to be here at seven thirty? Can’t I just come in at eight and work until five? I don’t know. I am rethinking a lot of things lately, and the stress and exhaustion (and anxiety) have been wreaking havoc on my mind and mental state lately. I’ve felt very tired and unfocused for a long time now, and that’s affecting me adversely. I’ve not been able to seriously target any one writing project, but just having dinner with Ellen and talking about writing and commiserating about the business helped me focus and clarify a bit; I’ve been feeling at loose ends by not having a contract in place for anything, and not really sure what I should be doing right now, with the surgery hanging over my head. I have no idea how long I’ll be on painkillers and I also have no idea how long the recovery process will be; I suspect I will find that all out on my 11/13 pre-surgery appointment–which is actually coming up pretty quickly. I know having that on the horizon has undoubtedly affected me in a subconscious way; no matter how much you try to compartmentalize your brain–something I’ve always managed to do since turning thirty-three and rebooting my life–things that weigh heavily on you will still impact and affect you regardless. I also realized that trying to control my anxiety is part of my mental fatigue; recognizing it as it starts to happen and then controlling it can be exhausting, and that probably has a lot to do with the malaise I’ve been experiencing for the last few months on top of everything else with the surgery.
It’s kind of been a rough year for me personally, if a good one professionally.
Heavy thoughts for a Monday morning.
And on that note I am heading into the spice mines. May your Monday be glorious and terrific, Constant Reader, and I’ll be back tomorrow.
Queer and Loathing in America 