Mentally Fixated

Sometimes I become fixated
On a problem
At the exclusion of all others.

My mind attempts to connect
All the dots
When they aren't always apparent.

When that occurs I don't always
Deal with distractions
In a polite or, accommodating way.

I must be wary when that happens
Or, I become
More than difficult to be around.

I've always loved puzzles and
The more difficult
They are the better I like them.

No, this isn't a poem it is just
A string of sentences
That describe where I am mentally.

Bored -- No Extremes

For years, my guitar was my escape. I could go in my room, shut the door, and become completely absorbed into the music. I would sit and play and sing for hours at a time. I probably knew well over 100 songs by heart.

Sometimes I would be in the mood to write music. I have no idea how many songs I've written through the years. They are tucked into files and notebooks and desk drawers or lying loose in my guitar case. I don't know if I've written a hundred songs, but probably at least fifty.

It seems that for the last few years it has been very difficult to get in the mood to play music, let alone to write music. Music comes from the heart. My heart hasn't been in it.

The mood to play or write music seems to be tied to extremes. When I am happy, I play music. When I am melancholy or despondent, I write music. The writing is a release. It usually lifts me from my despondency.

I think that I have fallen into a rut of complacency; that is why the music doesn't hold me in thrall the way it does when the emotional pendulum is at an extreme. Perhaps it is a warning sign. Maybe extremes are designed to recharge us.

In a way, it's like the diversity around us -- both in nature and in humanity. It would certainly be boring if it was all the same. Without the swings, we would probably die of boredom.