Notes on Going Outside

I don't really know what the big story is in the news right now, and, frankly, I'm not all that interested. 

Well, I'm a little bit interested. I would like to know if any investigations are inching closer to desirable destinations, and if the forecast shows a warming trend to carry out this week on a slushy street high note. But I can find those things out pretty easily, and it's just not enough of a challenge. 

I guess what I'm saying is that I need to go outside.

Like, I really need to go outside. Really. Technically I've been outside over the past few days. I've even ventured out as far as several miles from my home and sanctuary. But it doesn't feel like I WENT outside or did anything to connect with the outdoor environment while I was doing so. 

I treated it as a routine thing and managed to completely miss out on what the outside is all about, with its January nip and snowflakes falling and trees and grass rustling in the chilly winter breeze. 

Nope, I didn't catch any of that. I ambled around like a wandering drone searching for a WiFi signal. None of that exploring or enjoying sit; just ennui and obliviousness, maybe even hopelessness. 

{sigh} the times are rough around here, my friend. 

Sometimes I'm perfectly content sitting in this house and staring at devices. Reading books and building legos helps the time indoors go by, making it more interesting. Playing tug-of-war with the dog and getting regularly attacked by the kiddo, these things help reduce the internal pressure this place sometimes puts on the psyche. 

But I still get the feeling that I'm connecting with nothing outside these walls, and that I'm missing something else or extra or even essential. 

Despite being in, life gets sucked out, and the outside is where it ends up, not down. All around town. The gas escapes and floats and expands and lands and generates energy and motion and memories for someone else.

But I remain inside, stuck in comfortable slippers of my own making. The magnet is reversed. The polarity points and pulls me inward. I watch things through the window and panic as the life and goings on outside keep going and I'm not a part of it in any meaningful way.

The computer remains still and silent. It does nothing, says nothing, moans a whimpering whir when it's overworked, but refuses to inspire or encourage or greet or cheer. It just sits there. I might as well be it. 

No challenge and less excitement. No stimulation. This is what the days, weeks, months, turning into years has become around here. Everything blends but nothing sends. No escape not just from mediocrity, but from the vacuum of time, endless time. 

I guess what I'm trying to say here is that I have nothing to say. The last two days/entries have seemed way more forced than usual, much like writing was before the Exercise was even an inkling. I occasionally feel spurts of inspiration but they're never sustained; there's just not enough energy to carry those things through and over and past and beyond the doldrums that never really leave, that drag everything down and don't ever seem to fully let go. I just can't seem to get out of my own way.

Til Tomorrow