Time is running out.
I have only until April, the bills must be paid, renovations finished in the condo, I must acquire maps, equipment and relevant experience. How far off the beaten track will I get? Should I learn to Kayak? Buy a gun? Acquire remedial survival skills?
Time passes.
I've finished my first book in 3 months, a slender volume of some 125 pages, narratives and poems of Northern Alberta and BC. Relevant, but somehow I couldn't immerse myself. And no less than 100 other unread books upon my shelf, yet still I don't think I'll be attacking them soon.
There are countless projects that need doing, completion, yet when I find myself on that rare day off, free of commitment and obligation, there's too much to be done, painting, writing, there's xmas and treasure hunts at the local thrift shops, I find myself paralyzed with a sort of Agoraphobia.
I'm not agoraphobic, of course, but I wonder at my reluctance to leave the house, get fit, go to the gym, for coffee, dinner, dancing, do anything, something, outside of myself. Truly there's nothing to keep me here but housework and chores.
"There's too much to be done" I tell myself.
That's true, but it would be much better served by my going out and then coming home and just getting on with it.
I speculate that it's depression, probably it is, chemical? Not likely, more likely circumstantial, caught in the mindless rhythm of day to day existence, nothing to push myself forward, challenge me, help me to evolve. And, were I depressed I would expect to feel - well, depressed. As it is I just feel empty. I'm a worker, a silent, unobserved pillar of the economy.
Somehow I've found myself stuck in the mindless routine of work and home. Home, so much to be done, only another 5 or 6 months. I need to find a catsitter, finish the stairs, other light repairs, trips to the recycle, sell off shit, then Alaska.
If not Alaska then at least BC and the Yukon.
SO it is that the days escape me.