Itchy Hands

My phone buzzed this morning. It was a text message from a good friend of mine asking how things were since we hadn't spoken in a while. While we chit chatted to catch up, she mentioned that she could barely believe that it was December, and that 2012 was nearly over. I mentioned that, compared to previous years, it barely feels like I've accomplished much this year. She, being the smartypants I know her to be, responded by telling me that you can't declare bankruptcy, get divorced, sell a house, and move twice every year. It would get old and pase in a hurry.


I laughed, and told her that she had a point. Though, she did cause that ole 25 watt bulb over my head to go off because I think that might be why I've felt to restless and kinda useless these last few months. I've had nothing to do.

Sure, I've had little stuff like the mountains of dishes in my sink that appear every night, and the tumbleweeds of dog hair aren't going to sweep themselves. But I'm more talking that I haven't had anything that needs to have my teeth sink into it and feel the ichor of confrontation and achievement drip down my chin. Perhaps it smacks of "poor little rich girl" always wanting what she doesn't have when I say that really, all I've done this year is moved in Feb, and gotten a new job in September. Previous years saw my blood singing with vigor to make appointments and court dates and contract signings. This year has been calm, and it's unnerving. And the choir of humanity who doesn't understand that restlessness that comes with not having any fires to put out cries that I should enjoy it. Pipe down, relax. Put your feet up and enjoy.

That's the thing. I don't know how to do that constructively. Time and time again, I've seen the same behavior. When I had the opportunity to take part in some fantastic and 100% free training with a former employer, I never did. Even when I knew there were classes I wanted to take. I have a list several pages long for classes I'd like to take from the likes of MIT that offers their classes online for no credit, but no cost either. That list has only grown because I haven't ever been back to start my journey of the mind. For the majority of the year when I was looking for work in 2007, I did little beyond sleep, mope, and look at funny cat pictures on the internet. I had all the time in the world, but not an ounce of motivation. It's all potential. And I thrive in the kinetic.

There is a scene from the Batman The Animated Series that I can't seem to find that illustrates what I feel like quite well. Even after spending an entire afternoon watching every episode that mentions Clayface, I can't find it. But, for those avid fans that remember, there's a short bit where Batman has found some leftover pieces of what he believes to be part of Clayface at a crime scene. The small lumps of nearly liquid matter are in a petri dish and are inert and motionless until Batman shocks them with a small prod. Then the clay violently reacts, forming shapes and faces in rapid succession for a moment or two. This is the best way I can think of to express what I feel like when it comes to Getting Stuff Done. Left to my own devices, I'm a lump in a bathrobe. I need that shock, that urgency in order to stoke the coals of my internal powerplant to set me on the road to accomplishment.
After determining that, it's no wonder I haven't felt like 2012 has been very productive. I mean, really, all I've done this year is moved, started dating Thunderhead, and changed jobs. You may say that should be enough for one person, but for me, I feel like I've been slacking. What's even stranger is if the feeling of being unproductive is left to fester, I wallow in it. I become a bon-bon eating, fuzzy slipper wearing, book devouring, people shunning hermit who dreads the idea of leaving the house, but desperately wants the world not to forget she exists. It's a paradox wrapped in fleece and pressed like a puppy waiting for her human to come home against the big picture window of life.

Not that I'm a danger-seeker, or an adrenaline junkie. The closest to having the experience of the wind whipping through my hair at a high rate of speed is using my car windows as a hair drier in the summer. I'm pretty sure getting me onto one of those zip line, free fall simulation rides at any major amusement park would bring new heights to the field of projectile vomiting. I like my feet on the floor and my nose in a documentary in my spare time. My thrills are of the low speed, medium sweat, high volume variety. Somewhere along the way, I've lost the needle on my compass that helped me find my misadventures. 2012 has hasn't have enough laughter, blushes, and the "Oh no you didn't!" factor of misbehaving in public that leaves me with contented sighs and declarations of "That was fun! I'll have to add that to the list of stories that sound like lies." as I put my head on the pillow at night.

So, perhaps I'm jumping the gun, the shark, or even rope, but I think I want to make a New Years Resolution well before the end of the year. (Though, it's less than 2 weeks till the end of the world in Mayan time.) I pledge to get myself in more trouble, pick a new hobby, find a new cause, and be more accessible in 2013.