Ah memory.

It's memorial day. Appropriate.

Last night was a meltdown. I predicted it. I knew it would happen. If the right triggers were pulled. And I knew exactly what they were. And it happened. No one should be surprised, but someone was.

"Up" was on. That, my friends, was the trigger. I saw the movie when it came out. Loved it. Thought it handled love, loss, regret and aging remarkably well for a big-budget animated movie. Loved the humor. Loved the whole damned thing.

Then we lost my father-in-law before his time. Then we lost my grandmother long after hers, but still a loss. Then we lost our oldest and dearest cat. All within 6 months.

And apparently that is all too fresh for me to face "Up." I rather figured that would be the case, and have avoided it assiduously since it came out on video. But Kman thought it would be fun to watch. Until I broke down at about the 10 minute mark and had to go upstairs, as far from the movie as I could get. I do have a hope. I hope that some day, not too long from now, I can face the movie. And not lose it. And not succumb to what I think is the devastating combination of regret that I imagine the humans we lost dealt with. I don't think the cat would be overly worried. But the Father, yes. Too young. Too many unfinished beginnings. The grandmother, yes. Too lost too soon. Too many unfinished endings. It's just horrible to encounter this many ghosts via the simple act of sitting on the couch and watching a movie. Just horrible.

So there is the Memorial day. Spent remembering, all right. But sadly not spent moving on quite yet. I'm hoping that can happen soon. Ghosts get heavy.

Again with the patterns. They haunt me. And hunt me.

Right now I am thinking about times when creativity wasn't enough to inspire me to act. Yes, the skills were there. But the incentive wasn't. It just didn't matter enough. And from an objective standpoint (if such a thing is possible), there wasn't really anything that was lost by not acting. So, I didn't make art at some point or other. So I didn't write something. What was really lost? Well, the world lacks some stuff. Is that really so bad? When all I wanted to do was something else? Good question. That's the kind of thing I castigate myself with. It's all a big session of shit or get off the pot. Do I want to write? Well, it doesn't drive me to put words on the page with a focus beyond all else. It is fun. I'll give it that. And I'm pretty good at it. But it's not something that wakes me in the morning with the compelling urge to write. It's just something that fits around other things.

And probably the saddest admission is that there isn't anything else that is all that compelling. Nothing wakes me and fills me with the urge to do whatever-it-is. I find that a relief, in a way, as I have experienced that kind of urge, and don't find it conducive to being content and happy. It just feels like wearing an overly itchy sweater all the time in a very hot room. I don't like that.

So, what to do? What to do? I think the best course of action is to wait this one out. And see what transpires. I have found in the past that flexibility helps. So does the lack of the personal accusatory voice. So does plenty of sleep. So does not drinking too much wine. So does walking away from the computer. So does putting down the tv remote.

It'll happen. Or it won't. I'm not convinced that either will be a tragedy.

Today is meant to divert and play the role of a palate cleanser. Or to be more specific, this afternoon. Because enough, already.

It's never enough, though. Funny, when I didn't have enough to do, it wasn't enough. And now that I have too much, it's not enough. There seems to be a problem with either my definitions or my aspirations. I am going to personalize the problem, mainly because I don't know how else to tackle it mentally. If it's not me, it's you. And if you're some anonymous internet user, that's pretty presumptuous of me. So I'll own this one, and try and figure it out.

I suspect that it's the balancing act that is thrown off a bit. Lately it's been me on the head of a pin, spinning plates with a blindfold on. Funny how that works. Not very well, and there tends to be some noise involved.

For the last two weeks I've been immersed in my job. Almost to the exclusion of everything else. It feels a bit odd- like I need to struggle through and find myself again. But the weekend helped. So did an odd exercise that we did at work last week. It was strangely personal, and I brought it home.

We did a values exercise and determined from a stack of cards with words on them what our values are. Mine did NOT include Power, Influence or Accountability. But they did include Knowledge, Reflection and Family. Big shock there. Kman did the cards this weekend and had a totally different outcome. We didn't share any of our words. But the funny thing is that I predicted 3 of his 5 words, and ours were compatible and complimentary to a scary degree. It's cool to come to those kinds of conversations and have them confirm our reality.

Not to feel smug, or anything. But I might've felt a little smug. Then I was just tired. And then I slept.