Fugue

Well, January has arrived. It has to be said, as months go; it has all the charm and wit of a gonorrheal goat with lustful intentions. As memories of the festive season fade I can’t help but feel that this calendar period is designed to bitch slap all those who got carried away with goodwill to all men and joy to the world. Smack!!! Don’t you ever forget you are part of the rat race and life sucks.

I know January blues are hardly the most original topics but I really thought it would be different for me this year. For the first time in a long time, I didn’t overspend at Christmas. I mean money is tight, but then it always is. I don’t have a mega credit card bill coming my way. That should be a relief, right?

January 2010 was a good one. I was making plans. I had projects and schemes ahead. I knew I was embarking on an exciting new time in my life. And so it proved. Last year was a productive one. Surely with the start of the New Year I should be feeling eager to carry on from my relative success as novice writer to becoming a partially recognised one.

Instead I’m unmotivated, listless, disorganised, anxious and just in a general funk (and not the cool Bootsy Collins kind.) When it comes to making the most basic decisions I’m bereft of any kind of definite opinion. I have taken to stopping dead in the street while I contemplate which foot I should use to take the next step.

These bouts of inertia can last up to five minutes. One such occurrence was, by pure chance, outside one of the ‘Adult Entertainment’ shops on Capel St. Such was my disorientation that I barely registered the strange glances I was getting from passing pensioners.

Coming off the back of two of the busiest months I have ever experienced I was looking forward to having five days off in a row last week. But having nothing to do meant I couldn’t relax. My brain was adamant that we should be completing some task or other. My body wasn’t so sure and when my mind couldn’t make convincing argument as to what exactly we should be busying ourselves with, my body won that debate.

I’m aware I sound like I am blaming January for my indecisive fugue. I am. The alternative, that it is of my own doing, just doesn’t float. I’m a positive, motivated person with a sparky nature…or I try to be. But it’s not happening at the moment and nothing has changed. Except the calendar.