I've decided to become a blogger. I don't know if this is a good idea or not, I am not usually capable of maintaining the commitment required to sustain any kind of daily output, but my unlimited free time, at first a blessing, has become a curse leaving me in desperate need of a sense of purpose. Any purpose. ...Seriously, anything.
I was a busy member of London's backstabbing commercial art world last year with no time to stew in the existential soup I have been bathing in recently. In October my boss decided to go through the text messages on my personal phone, you know, like you do... A less than complimentary text exchange with a former co-worked landed me with a good old, "Your fired." Whoops, that taught me not to maintain personal correspondance, because, lets face it, theres always a crazy around the corner eager to troll through your phone (I know because I'm one of them) ...I can't say I was sorry to wave goodbye.
My newfound freedom saw me taking deep breaths, sleeping in and saying things I can only laugh out loud at now like, "Now I have the time, maybe I'll make my own Halloween costume this year!" Yeah right...I went as myself again. Nobody was impressed.
As time went by I began to run out of menial tasks to keep myself distracted and make sure my obsessive compulsive worrying remained in check. First I organised the bookshelf alphabetically by title. Then by author. Now my books are colour coordinated; all the red spines together, all the black spines...you get the sad picture.
Then it was the DVDs, by genre, title, date. Then I put all the good DVDs on one shelf and all the bad DVDs on another, leaving me to wonder why I had so many bad DVDs which led to a panic attack about my taste in movies (I had to hide the DVDs. I should really sell them but I can't bring myself to part with anything, ever).
Next I tried to remove all the carpet stains in my flat. I worked out my anxieties about my future with a scrub brush and stain remover. My partner stood over me in the hallway showing his support, "Everything you do is stupid."
"You're stupid."
"You're more stupid." He went to watch TV. Turns out being married is just like being in kindergarten again.
After several weeks I realised that no matter how much I might clean my flat, two hours later the dirty dishes would be littered across the kitchen counter and dirty socks would be left in a trail along the floor of the hallway like my partner needed to leave them behind him every few feet in case he should get lost and forget his way back to the living room... I decided to live contentedly in our mess rather than risk a panic attack everyday over the unmade bed. Ok, well I still cry sometimes when the blanket isn't tucked in at the bottom, but I'm learning to cope.
This breakthrough was followed by a period of several days (or was it weeks? Months?) during which I devoted myself fulltime to eradicating the mice who had colonised our kitchen. I know right? Ew. Maybe they showed up after I stopped washing the dishes, who knows. I systematically despatched them to their creator without a pang of guilt. Afterwards I worried I was becoming a heartless monster, a former vegetarian who had undertaken a mass murder of door mice. When I realised I was spending too much time worrying about what the mice must have thought of me I decided to turn my attention outwards. I sat by the window and looked out the window onto my West London street. Like a demented house cat, I would sit perfectly still, watching the birds land on the tree branches outside, wishing I could name the different types but unable to commit myself to a dedicated ornithological study.
The birds and I watched a neighbour or two arrested and led away in handcuffs, an exciting highlight.
After I had memorised every paving stone and shrub outside my window I began to twiddle my thumbs and do spontaneous yoga poses around my flat.
In a downward dog one day I thought, "Aha, I'll just do yoga all day, everyday." Nothing like forcing my body into uncomfortable positions on the bathmat between the tub and the toilet to reach mental wellbeing. One day as I was congratulating myself for getting into a pose on one foot without falling over onto the floor and dragging the nearby table with me and possibly on top of me, my partner opened the living room door in a swift motion so exuberant I was knocked over (the fall was graceful, don't worry, I was Nijinsky).
"Why were you standing behind the door?"
"I was reaching spiritual enlightenment."
"Whats for dinner?"
To jump ahead, the first month of 2013 ends tomorrow and I am determined to begin making the most of my free time, I mean, when am I ever going to have the freedom of unemployment again? Oh wait, probably forever.
So I am going to undertake a different activity everyday. No really, I mean it this time. Every day. Ok well most days at least. All the exhibitions and shows in London (at least the free ones...) I'll tell you which to see and which not to see. Films, I'll see them and review them. I'll write about my activities, the workshops, the encounters. I'm going to see how much I can do, and hopefully through my daily excursions and exertions my path to eternal mental and spiritual equilibrium will stretch out before me like a blazing yellow brick road. But it probably won't be that easy.
