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November 17th, 2003

little cat's feet

Monday rolls in like a fog, or rather, the absence of fog, as I think in a clear blue way of the things I intended to get done this weekend that I failed to do. I had a good weekend, and did get some things done, but a few things I could easily have done remain for me to do.

My nephew reported that he went 5 wins, no losses through his chess tournament last weekend, which won him the trophy for his rating class. He's progressing nicely. One way in which I did things other than accoplish my weekend "to do" list is by playing on-line chess against a goodish number of folks. My chess is coming back to me again. I improved my on-line rating a bit, but I want to do much better.

I talked to my parents last night, and made plans to visit next Saturday. It's been too long since I've been home to Arkansas. Perhaps we will go to the diamond mine. Because of deer season, I will not be able to do much hiking, though.

iambliss did a coat of arms for the Feeder Guppy Rescue League. What a fun idea! Perhaps I should do a manifesto. I always like the Audobon Society statement of principles. Surely guppies deserve no less.

This week, though, I intend to get a lot of work done, including 'to do' list items omitted this weekend. I'd like to have that feeling that I can and will get things done.
"Some of these days, and it won’t be long
"Gonna drive back down where you once belonged
In the back of a dream car twenty foot long
Don’t cry my sweet, don’t break my heart
Doing all right, but you gotta get smart
Wish upon, wish upon, day upon day, I believe oh lord
I believe all the way"--old David Bowie song

That tinge of sadness, a weariness, perhaps a bit of mild depression. I experience it as the lack of a "good novel going", and as an increase in needless procrastination.
I have to keep my "chin up", as the expression goes, and avoid dwelling on the negative. Instead, like that curious chant in "Dune", I have to let the negative pass over me and turn my inward eye to see it pass. That epigrammatic poet Edwin Markham said "Defeat may serve as well as victory to shake the soul and let the glory out".

Today I got a great deal done, but I also experience a bit of
undifferentiated sadness. Yet I've learned, with time, that
I cannot let this define me. I define myself differently altogether.

We stopped once at a fruit stand on the big island in Hawaii.
They served there an ambrosia called fresh white pineapple--twice as sweet at that in the market back home, hacked into manageable slices with a large machete-like knife. I remember the sense of sweetness emanating from that pineapple as if it drenched my soul. Sometimes I have to remind myself that I have a life that has real tang and flavor, as well as a few needlessly dusty drives.

I know how much comfort I find in a long talk, a good book, a long hike, the feel of a sunfish striking on a line, or the sight of a sunset bursting red across the fields. I will absorb this depression, and accept it. But it will not own me.
I will be done with it soon.

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