The Heart of Winter

It's not just the cold and grey, the middle of this winter really does feel like its theme is constant reminders of senility and death. Let me adjust my reading glasses a second, and expound.

My back hurts, my hands hurt, I'm used to that. I feel a little dumber at times, which is new. Maybe it's not that I'm losing cognitive ability, but that I can't get away with mental multitasking so much anymore. It's one thing to have flaws, and another to realise you're actively powering through without controlling for them.

Babies I know are becoming people. Old people (and dogs) I know are having health problems - they can feel more aggrieved than me for sure...

Without straying into cliché, the world feels more divided or at least divided from me and I feel like a sense of optimism and expectation that I used to have when walking around town is long gone.

But mainly, after twenty years of journal, it feels like I have nothing new to say. Which I know is not true, but a symptom of July. The reality is, I never had much to say anyway, but I used a lot of words to say things which made it sound amusing or engaging.

So, I will aim to write at least five entries between now and the end of July about whatever happens between now and then. Because what else are constant reminders of senility and death good for other than to make yourself live?