This Morning

As i was typing the date for this entry, i somehow automatically went ‘September 20, 19…’ before i caught myself. This is interesting only because what i was planning on writing about is how i woke up this morning and was overwhelmed with the feeling of being back in about 1981/82. It was that moment just before waking on a day when you’ve managed to sleep in longer than you should have; a morning after a night spent working too late. It was a morning with a particular degree of chill before the furnace comes on, and a particular degree of light through the blinds. A morning a particular feeling of distance and anxiety and hopefulness working its way out from the fading spaces of a night whose half-remembered dreams hint at memories that the daylight dreaming doesn’t touch. It was a morning that felt like all the mornings of high school.

(The familiarity was short-lived, to be sure, as upon even partially waking, one of the big differences between now and then is that when i wake up now, i do so in bed with a vivacious naked woman. This is a thing sadly lacking in the above-mentioned high school years. But anyway.)

I remember this feeling of morning from those years, ’81/’82. That endless two-year-period where my life made its abrupt transition from whatever came before it to the place in which i still find myself now; grade 11, grade 12. Back then, every morning upon waking, there was this feeling of being at the beginning of something, and of everything being possible and nothing insurmountable, and of unrestricted creativity and endless amounts of time to piss away doing nothing but thinking and writing and exploring the ever-expanding extents of the world.

These days, too much of the time, i find myself waking to the feeling of being sandbagged and sucked down in the middle of things. Too many mornings of my life now are the feeling of too many items falling off the bottom of the list of things i wanted to accomplish at some point, and of the vicelike grip of ever-shortening days cutting into the creative calendar, and of fighting an ever-losing battle with a general sense of malaise and the slowly fracturing purpose that was once my life.

This morning, for a little while at least, i felt again as if i could accomplish absolutely anything that my heart and mind desired. I like that.