A good friend once malapropped that he felt "compressed". Not so ludicrous when you realize he meant that he was depressed. Loathe to explain for the maddening averages/normals, I comment that I am compressed today. Only slightly, and for no apparent or immediate reason - steadily on the looney pills, no crises imminent - all is status quo in the house of sYd. Nevertheless, I am experiencing a malaise coupled with a disquieting desire to weep for no reason.
Maybe it's the normalcy of it all. Mom states that I am an adrenalin junkie which I equate with insane spills from cliffs wearing only a bandana, a wetsuit filled with fillets and a quick splash with great whites, etc., not with the mild thrills that seem to crop up in my daily rounds. But she may have a point. This continuing subtlety of life may be compressing my adrenalin jones and resulting in this feeling of not-quite-enough.
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1 comment:
Must be the season. I have been in the same funk and I do not require adrenaline. Perhaps the cement factories in Midlothian are spewing a greater amount of toxins lately.
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