Blue Two

Here I am. Tuesday morning. There are times, often times, when I want to just be sad. You see. I either have been trained or have trained myself to look behind the sadness and find the greater message. The meaning. Like reading a fairy tale or watching a Disney movie. The inner theme that is woven from the beginning, throughout, and to the end of the story and is supposed to button up those blue feelings. The cherry on top makes you forget what’s beneath. 

But what if I wanted to just eat it? I’m not sure if it’s wrong. It feels like the wrong thing to do. Like going to the gym and just hanging out. But sometimes that’s what you want. Just to be. Not just to be doing. So here I am. Blue. Trying to figure out the moral behind being sad. 

Here I am on the other side. Now what. Maybe this is why I need the moral. I need something to take with me. A bit that I can look back and see that I can avoid this better next time. I have the question: should I try and avoid it? I’m not sure the sad is any worse than struggling as hard as I can to avoid it and failing. Just take it. I’ll be blue for a day. Maybe two. 

I say this because I was feeling sad last week. I don’t want this to become a trend. I want a simple, straightforward theme of musings on or around a Tuesday, and then we’re onto the next. Maybe a subject change will help.

I gave blood today. I kind of regretted it midway through. The needle was sticking in me and I was starting to become more and more nervous. I had the image of the lady missing the vein and going in for try number two and simply telling her thanks for trying, better luck next year. And then leaving. She came through. She got it first try and I sat there like a stuck pig. 

It’s for a good cause. At least, so I tell myself. I’m not sure how much of a difference it makes, but you know, I’m trying. I think that counts. It could be because I’m not feeling like much of a writer today. Or this week. Or two. There are jobs and you see the people doing them and can’t help but say, “Wow, that person really is a ditch digger.” 

But here’s to me. I think the problem with writing is the self-pity. And staying on topic. This has been a whirlwind. Right about now, you may be wondering where or when a moral or message will be revealed. After all, this is a high-intellectual sort of writing sphere. Surely there will be a little gem that shall be handed out from on high. There shan’t be. Yet, I do want you to know that, like me, you’ll make it.

I’m sure someone else has said this first. I don’t have to be okay. I just have to be.