I guess that’s why they call it the (meta) blues

I’ve been in a pissy mood the past few days. The stress is blocking any creativity and I’m not dealing with it well. None of it. The Gemini twins are fighting out in the open now and Maestro is catching the stray blows. A lot of them. This is when I’ll swing from being sharp-tongued to silent faster than what’s healthy for anyone.

I’ve always believed that a long hot shower in the morning after a good sleep releases my creativity better than any else. It’s a clear unfettered brain able to solve the riddles of the world! Part of the weirdness of writing about my life now is analyzing and living it simultaneously. For the academic in me, it’s a juicy piece of meat that I can bake, grill or fry any which way I want. It’s an auto ethnography wet dream kind of story. But the challenge is writing from both perspectives at once – the lived experience in the moment (initial impressions, reactions) and the overarching narrative that gives it meaning back to the actor/director (me in this case). I’ve been happily doing the dear-diary documenting for weeks now, but not much in the way of deeper thinking. And for me, that’s not good. As me, as the subject, it means I’m accumulating lots of unorganized, unfiltered experience data but not trying to even define the bigger picture what-does-it-all-mean question. As the researcher, it means I’ve given myself too much data to sift through. I can’t find clear patterns easily.

Once I made those pieces fit together, the twins agreed to a truce. I’m going to spend more time, more frequently reading my week’s old stories (even though some seem to be pained navel-gazing ramblings that shouldn’t see the light of day) and writing to find meaning in it all. Make it memorable for me.