Solipsism – 2

It’s almost 8 pm.  I woke up at half past noon after having stayed up till about 4 am in the morning.  No, I wasn’t working this time.  I gave myself the weekend off.  We were watching a movie – Of Love and Shadows – about the Pinochet dictatorship in Chile.  Anil searched the entire Netflix library and came up with this one because it starred one of his favorites – Jennifer Connelly. He can’t pass on any movies starring Ms Connelly. 
Antonio Banderas was in it too.  I remarked at the radiant and dewy quality of his complexion.  In fact, he is the only actor whose poster I’ve ever had up on a wall near me (of course this was back in the early 1990s).  We agreed that there was some eye candy for both of us in this movie as we settled in to watch. Not a bad movie at all, even though it wasn’t as good as Isabel Allende’s novel.  No movie ever does justice to the novel on which it is based.
Well, that was the reason I slept in on Sunday and had to wake up with a start when I realized that violin lessons were starting again after a three week long break where I didn’t pick up my instrument even once.  I hadn’t missed a single day of practice until three weeks ago but the recent spell of lethargy has been so pervasive that I haven’t done anything that fit my former definition of myself…even though these occasional spells of lethargy are, unfortunately, a part of my personality.  
The main source of discontent is always about not having written something/anything down because that is the only thing that makes me feel good, that brings me a modicum of satisfaction.  As one can see, there isn’t much to write about.  Such is life these days.  There are no interesting conversations, no insights, no expectations, no grand desires, no newness.  
Some suggest one should write what one knows.  There was a time when I was learning and growing and seeking progress but I haven’t sought these things in quite some time.  Now I only know stagnation, it seems.  I don’t have a sense of what lies ahead and I don’t know what I should want from myself.  I used to think contentment was a vaunted ideal but I now think discontent and flux is a preferred state, it ensures an appetite.  
All I know is that these blog posts will appear with some regularity now.  The things that stopped me from living in my head, from showing how self-absorbed I am, through words on a blog, have ceased to matter.  I want to write about how I am feeling at the moment, after all, this is what Michel de Montaigne did in the sixteenth century when he documented every feeling, every want, every need, every experience, no matter how bland or irrelevant. He even locked himself away in a tower in order to write about his feelings! Why not make him a role model? 
These period dramas are really getting to me, making me seek role models from over 500 years ago!
I need to explore what this is, this place that feels like an island between happiness and unhappiness, a place of eerie, stagnant calm.  Is this it? Or can I get a boat ride out of here to a place where some goals and targets are still in sight?
And if anyone chances upon these posts and thinks I need some talking to, just think of these lines from a Billy Joel song, “When I’m deep inside of me, don’t be too concerned, I won’t ask for nothing while I’m gone…” 
These posts do not warrant a concerned phone call or a solicitous inquiry on Facebook.  Those should only happen when one is unhappy or depressed.  I am neither.  Like I said, I am in a contented, zero expectation, no happiness-no unhappiness state of being.  I have my moments of joys, sorrows, excitement but it all settles in on a flat-lined average at the moment.  
One day it will change.  For now I know I’ll sleep well because some black letters have crawled across the screen.

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