Surrender

In my life, there are empty days– blank canvasses that would tolerate neither ink nor charcoal nor oil.  No matter how hard I try to fill these days with anything, nothing sticks– they repel everything.  I cannot even begin to approach them knowing the futility of trying to make sense of their preferred emptiness.

This is not just mental block or any temporary lapses of concentration.  This is a real race against time, before the day ends.  Wanting, needing to make something of a life on this particular day, I tell myself to just let go for a few minutes hoping that all I need is some quiet time, that perhaps I’92m just pushing myself too hard.  On most days this technique works, but on days like this, everything is just so darned wasted.

World class athletes refer to these days as off days.  Those days when everything they do seem off-tangent, no matter how hard they try, they cant shoot that basket or bend that free kick or hit that forehand winner.  Everything doesn’92t wor.

It’92s easy for me to categorize what I’92m experiencing so far as an ’91off day’92, it’92s tempting.  But this goes beyond ’91off’92.  This is, to borrow that legal phrase, a ’91null and void’92 day.  I had a non-life right from the beginning.  I’92ve been straitjacketed and everywhere I turn is a dead-end.  A brick wall.  It’92s depressing.  There’92s nothing I can do but to surrender this day’92s life.