Dear MF’ing Diary: Exhale…
I am joyfully exhausted.
Painting the apartment up for the last four days has revealed a part of me I would not have discovered while sitting in front of my laptop:
I zone out during simple, directed, and repetitive activity.
And I mean zone-out in that “meditative and metropolitan-zen” sense.
Today I did the last room, and I will miss it, I think I’m going to look into working around such taxing fields (as long as no heavy duty exertion is required [I’m way too skinny for that]).
There’s something ironic about making assumptions about oneself…
I figured my “place” on this spinning globe was toiling away at something cerebral (and that I would find said “zen” in an intellectual space)
But no; it is rather painting where I exhale with a sense of exultation and say: aaah. How relaxing that was, how decluttering (for my a.d.d busy body thoughts), how soothing and reassuring (each spread of paint leads closer to the end and this serves as a drive/encouragement produced by the activity [as opposed to having to pump myself up])
How philosophical (the act of transforming a large space with incremental [and repetitive] action, and that very modification of a physical area changing me as I take the fruits of my labour).
And the sense of achievement maintained as long as the memory of how the place looked before remains fresh in my mind.
And how Existential! (the memory of what the place looked like will invariably wilt away; and soon enough i will acclimatise to the new (which, truth be told, became old soon as the paint dried)…
Questions arise about the concept of new, and the desire for new, and the inner critic in me is sucking on a pacifier I can’t help but feel giddy at the prospect of becoming something I never thought I would just a mere five days ago.
Asperganoid (down), and OUT.