Discombobulation and the Art of Distraction

I've had this blank post open now for about three hours.

I've written a bit of this and a bit of that and I've deleted it and started again and then deleted that.

I don't know if I've got nothing to say or too much to say. I don't know whether I am entirely lacking inspiration or simply oozing it. Has too much become nothing at all? Or is nothing at all taking over everything else?

Is it the time of year? Is it that a new year presents so many opportunities to do something new that it's hard to see the wood for the trees? I'm not much of a one for a new year's resolution, preferring to aim for something unquantifiable ("I'll say 'yes' more often" or "I'll have more fun") but I wonder if a more definite resolution actually brings focus before there's time to lose it.

Maybe it's the temperature. Maybe my thinks are froze. I am not a fan of cold, and boy is there a lot of it about at the moment. I don't like my first and last thought being whether I've got enough layers on, or wondering whether it's too Granny-like to be curled up on the sofa in my jimmers, fleecy bedsocks and moth-eaten cardigan, under a blanket (admit it ... that's the sexiest mental image anyone's conjured for your today).

Maybe it's just that there has been so much that has been regimented, controlled and prescribed for such a long time. Now I'm freer, and my time is my own. Other than the small matter of work, I don't have to be anywhere for two months. It's a bit daunting to go from extreme organisation to extreme liberation. Too much freedom isn't good for a girl. Not for this one anyway. I function better when plans are in place, or I risk languishing on the sofa under a blanket (phwor!) waiting for something to happen.

Or maybe it's none of these things. Maybe it's not that there's too much, but that there's too little. Maybe it's that I've got a nice house now, but that life is still the same, just under a different roof. Maybe it's that, for all I've started a new job which is calmer than the old one, I'm still really doing the same thing, and it's still not really that interesting. Maybe it's that it's a new year and it's still the same and I don't know how to put that down on the page anymore.

Maybe it's just that I'm tired and crabby and feeling the same January Blues that everyone else is feeling. But one way or another I can't seem to get my thoughts in order, and I'm in a proper blue funk.

I promise to try and snap out of it by tomorrow, when normal, eloquent, erudite, and deeply fabulous (humour me ... I'm feeling precious) service will be resumed.