Ichabod and Abbie get me on this one. I’m in a mood. It will pass. It already is. Getting into the swing of the day, taking a look at what needs to get done today, and in what order I would like to do it, all generally work together to turn things around. My mom was right; the more I do, the more I’ll want to do. Which is where things are going. Left foot, right foot, and all of that journey of a thousand miles stuff.
What got me in a mood wasn’t one thing, but a combination of things, and, as much as I’d like to say it was the state of the world, or something big like that, it wasn’t. Consider it another nibbled to death by ducks moment, and a good sign that I really do need to keep my head down and eyes on my own paper when I’m tempted to do otherwise. Not a good thing for us over-thinkers, but an occupational hazard. The minutiae don’t matter. What does matter was that I landed on the fact that I’m not where I’d hoped to be at this stage of the game, career-wise. Life happens. Life happened (egads, did it happen) and, as I have found out, does not have a reverse gear. There’s only forward from here.
Which is where the phantoms come into play. I don’t think the specifics matter here, either, and I’m not going to tie myself up trying to word things in exactly the right way (because, newsflash, there isn’t one.) Attempting to use something that isn’t there anymore, wanting to talk with someone who isn’t there anymore, adapting to the not-there-ness and finding out what goes there instead; again, not easy, and I doubt anybody actually picks that, but, as with anything else, the more exercise a muscle gets, the stronger it gets. The more ingrained a habit becomes, the easier it is to slip into autopilot, because a new pattern has formed, and we know what comes next and next and next.
The thing is, and this is not always entirely a bad thing, those in between times. Leaning on the right side of the staircase when going downstairs in a new house, for example, because, even though the railing is on the left side now, it was on the right side in the last house, and the pattern is that strong. I suspect part of this bent may be due to getting the old desktop back into play. Some of the files on that hard drive need to go away, whether to a jump drive or the trash bin may depend on the individual files, but there are phantoms there. Story things I tried that didn’t have it in them to go all the way, other things that are too strongly tied to times/places I don’t want to revisit, and yet too close to eliminate entirely. The phantoms don’t do much, exactly. More like lurk there, on the outskirts, cock their heads at what I’m doing here, disturbing their rest. Some of them may well wander back off into the mist at some point, and others will adapt, take on a new form and make tentative motions in my general direction.
If what I come away from all this rooting around in the bowels of electronics past is that I’m not where I wanted to be, then that’s a good thing. It points me in the direction of where I want to go. The destination hasn’t changed, and it can still be reached the same left foot, right foot, way. Some of those steps will, of necessity, be taken with figurative phantom limbs. Those will hurt, until they don’t. At some point, what’s new now will become how it’s always been. Set a course, stick to it, keep moving in that specific direction, and there will be a point of arrival. I’m learning.
This wasn’t meant to be such a meandery post, and I’m not intending it to be a mopey one, merely splashing about in the shallows, getting bearings and finding the lay of the land in this new season. What I wanted was to get to my magic seven hundred, because then I get to go play with my imaginary friends. Mission accomplished.