When contemplating change, in addition to traditional INFJ (over)analyzing, I pay attention to the world around me, which I believe sends me signs. I don’t go looking for signs — that defeats the purpose. But if something comes my way, and I see / hear / experience it, and it makes my brain go, “Look! A SIGN!” then I take notice. I contemplate then what the sign may be trying to tell me and where it fits into the contemplating process.
I just did this, right? I know they put some kind of fancy photo-taking pseudo-scientist robot on Mars, but I think they also must have done something to the space-time continuum. November cannot be over already! Alas, my paper calendars (yes, plural) tell me ’tis true. November, like the Autumn that has morphed too quickly into Winter, I barely knew ye (and apparently, I barely knew old English because the first time I typed that, I wrote yee).
AND on top of everything else, I’m writing this post in the evening on November 30, when I meant to write it earlier today (or actually earlier this week then tidy today and post). *le sigh*
Anyway, let’s pause — seriously, is there a pause button for days/weeks/months? Can someone invent that, please? — and take a look back at the month just passed as it comes to an end.
As an INFJ, I spend a lot of time gathering information and intel (consciously and sub so), and also analyzing/questioning/pondering, etc. I do a lot of this silently so most people wouldn’t notice my brain is constantly playing 20 questions / 1,000,000 answers. Sometimes, though, my brain gives me a break and I only think, like, half as much as usual and contemplate silly things that make me laugh. Lucky you, today is that day.
I’m off tomorrow, of my own choosing (yay, vacation days!). That makes this weekend three days long! And that also makes today, Thursday, my Friday. It’s flying by at a snail on a sloth with a broken leg break-neck speed.
There is a battle being waged, my friends, and it’s all in my head. Do I write something or stay silent?
“What I want is songs that echo. The stuff we’re doing now is like somebody’s bed sheets: spread ’em out, soil ’em, ship ’em out to laundry, you know? But our songs…I want us to be able to fold ourselves up in them forever… understand? That’s the most you’ll ever get out of me Wordman. Ever.”
Muse is fickle. (Yours, too? How ’bout that!) Sometimes, she visits for long stretches then disappears. When she does, I’m not sure when she’ll return. I know she’ll be back. She always comes back. She just likes to wander, and, like today’s millennials, doesn’t RSVP if invited and sometimes still doesn’t show up if she says she’s going to stop by (p.s. GET OFF MY LAWN!).
Muse’s visits have been consistent lately, but I wasn’t sure how long she’d stay this time ’round. Then she sent a sign during a recent chat about anxiety with the same person who suggested I might be right for roller derby. Continue reading “Confirmed: Mojo’s Return”
Two times in the past few months, I’ve mentioned roller skating, to two different people. Both times, the person I was talking to suggested I take up roller derby.
“What about me says roller derby that two people now have suggested it?” I asked the second person yesterday.
“Well, it would be a good way to get out the anxiety and frustration you feel,” he said.
It’s that obvious?
And I thought I hid it so well.
Of course, neither said anything about it until I mentioned roller skating. But upon mentioning that hobby from my youth, which I still love, both suggested a sport in which I’d wear knee and elbow pads, a helmet, and a grimace as I shoved past other women, perhaps pushing them into and/or over a railing.
I gave this some thought.
I’m a firm believer that when something comes up more than once there’s a reason.
I looked into roller derby in my area. There are teams. I have skates.
Then one of the women who loves it mentioned on the website about the blood. …. … … Oh, no, no, no can do. I could never be a vampire either.
So… maybe the message is to find a way to deal with anxiety and frustration that’s been coming my way, and twas not a message to lace up my skates and pounce.
Well, I could go skating, pleasantly, calmly, in circles, perhaps to the greatest hits of the 80s. That would be relaxing, and wouldn’t involve the blood-induced fainting that’s sure to ensue if I decided to whip it, whip it good.