Broody

I have been having a snip of “bad attitude.”

I feel a sense of disillusionment which seems too all-pervading.

Maybe it is just from the physical setbacks of the accident.

But it is also something that’s accumulated in my over fifty years of living.

I am bored.

Restless.

Not much is inspiring me in the common day interactions with other people and community.

I make the most of tiny opportunities.

But it’s like I have done all of this before.

I try to be comforted by the reemergence of familiar social patterns now welcoming me in this new land.

There is water, lush greenery, and an almost willfully-ignorant innocence abounding.

Not everything has yet been corrupted and tainted – which seems opposite to California’s demographics

There is hope here to create something endurant.

But I am disoriented and the space around me feels “empty” – as if who or what I need to add to and/or accompany me is not actually here.

I guess I still feel as if something essential is missing.

Like a lifemate or greater purpose to be pursuing.

Maybe I somehow carry the seeds of its fruition inside of me.

Meanwhile, absence of its embodiment has me in a fowl mood.

I’ve begun growl-chuffing.