It seems as if Thursday is going to be dedicated to 10 minutes of freewrite on The Daily Prompt. Which is actually pretty cool to me. I love freewrite. I just go and put my thoughts on the page with reckless abandon.
I’ve got The Clash album London Calling on, the mellow rhythm of “Rudie Can’t Fail” in the background and my personal humidifier blowing cool, moist air in my direction. My asthma is awful today but I am off tomorrow on a vacation day so I feel like I should suck it up. My chest is tight and the fluid build-up in my lungs causes only slight discomfort. A run this evening should clear it out.
It’s a sea of navy and orange on campus today. We’re having a staff tailgate party—wear your favorite sports team gear, join a cookout, play bags, whatever. Most of us are decked out in our Chicago Bears gear—myself included. Navy shirt with the orange roaring bear logo, brown Dickies pans and a pair of navy Chucks. It’s gonna be awesome when “Clampdown” comes on (you start wearing blue and brown / you’re working for the clampdown). A collection is being held for the local animal shelter. They’re looking for old towels, sheets, that sort of thing, so that the dogs don’t sleep on cold concrete. No worries if the items are torn or stained. I’ve got several garbage bags full of these. It breaks my heart to think of those poor pups, cold and scared, shivering on a slab of concrete. I’m optimistic that lots of donations will be delivered today.
My mind is occupied on another matter this morning. I am in another dating dilemma. And—in all honesty—I’m exhausted of it. From Disappearing Boy to the Professor to the Musician to the Insulter to the Ego Maniac to the Architect. I’m tired and overwhelmed. And when I’m tired and overwhelmed I don’t do anything. It’s like my mind can only take so much of the nerves of meeting someone new, the back-and-forth, wondering when/if this will be the last time I hear from the guy, what he’s thinking, what game he’s playing (because some still play games), how many other women he’s talking to, where I am in the race, if I even want to be in the race at all…
And the fact that I just typed that last point makes me realize that I don’t want to be in the competition. At least not for a few days. Maybe take a breather. Take a step back. Ignore my profile and messages. Go for a run. Go shopping. Go out to breakfast. Play with cake stuff. Make some more steampunk hair clips. Read. Watch a movie. Watch the Blackhawks tonight. Take a hot Epsom salt bath. Take a walk in the forest preserve. Write. Go get a haircut. All of these activities sound like a blast to me.
In the meantime, if Tom Hiddleston shows up… well, all bets are off.