High Noon.

Today's doors clatter open, but only bring in the rolling tumbleweed of ennui. A sense that today holds only more of the same. Whether this is weather speaking - dullness has descended and along with it that curious summer chill, which you know is not cold, but still sticks in the joints, hides under the skin and will not budge. I am up early, the coffee shop is deserted, but it feels empty, not just devoid of people. A tapestry shivers in the draft of the air con.

My soul is restless; I am in between projects - paintings are drying, sketches have been made, and need inking, but I know this will have to wait for a few days. I feel the desperation building within me - what can I do, what do I need to do. I am not without projects to work on - to attempt, but being prevented from beginning means I am forced back onto what I suppose I think of as 'the real world', what I do to get money to live. 

Before - last year, I became used to this feeling, a sense of frustration, of drifting, of going through the motions, trying to find ways to keep interested and focused; so this build up I find concerning. It brings back old concerns: to what extent do I listen to these feelings, and to what extent do I dismiss them as the product of not having anything to be working on? Are they a sign that I need to do something new, something radical, or just a sign that I am being paranoid, impatient, and generally need to get a grip? Change requires risk - and as I've mentioned before I'm basically a coward when it comes to things like that. Yet boredom builds frustration - it is not enough to exist - you must be seen doing it (Drama queen, me? No, you must have me mistaken! Photos from this side please.), and ideally make a difference in some way while you do it.

So I start to do the dance - checking adverts, looking at courses, counting finances, having long conversations that bore others about me (although this is pretty much a consistent part of my schtick anyway). Building up projects I'd like to work on, checking out opportunities that would 'further my career' - debating if this is a 'career' I'd want anyway. I start to rethink CVs turning experience into a magic wand that will enable me to do anything, even if the experience is not in anyway relevant. This is the fidget before the storm, the movements that become steps, become pirouettes, become lifts and hopefully - if I rehearse and see them through, become the dance in performance. I wonder if there's a career in extended metaphor?

I want the doors to have a dangerous gunslinger silhouetted against a blazing sun, a figure who sends us diving for cover, even if I hope that when the figure steps forward they deliver the mail - maybe its an interview?