Not that life is particularly bad at the moment--there are times of happiness or times when great songs come on the radio or the sky is just gorgeous or this homemade thick hot toast spread with Nutella is nonsensically delicious--but I feel like poison is circulating in my bloodstream, or in the air I'm breathing. I love Mondays right now, because I have a voice lesson and I get to tutor, and the two things are spaced such that I have a pretty airtight excuse not to do any other outside-the-house work unless I want to. But when I left the house for the voice lesson, though I liked what I was wearing, felt put-together and reasonably rested, etc, I felt pallid and sickly. It was similar this past weekend. I'd been looking forward to the Folk Festival, to JP's weekend visit, and to the late-night dances with the Jammin' on the James folks for months and weeks, respectively--but when the time came, I had no motivation to do anything. Friday night I wanted to stay in and watch a movie. We had to drag ourselves out. Saturday JP and I were both inexplicably in such terrible moods that the day was a near-total loss for us. We didn't go to either of the Jammin' on the James dances at all. Luckily, Sunday was (mostly) pretty great**. But I need to find out what's poisoning me like this.
*I write this and am reminded of Finch's short monologue in V for Vendetta: "I suddenly had this feeling that everything was connected. It was like I could see the whole thing. One long chain of events that stretched all the way back before Larkhill. I felt like I could see everything that had happened. And everything that was going to happen. It was like a perfect pattern, laid out in front of me, and I realized that we were all part of it, and all trapped by it."
"So do you know what's gonna happen?"
"No. It was a feeling."
**There was a keilidh! It was spelled "ceili," as it was Irish rather than Scottish, but it was the same. It was excellent.