march is my favorite month. because march is my new year. when everything starts. when all things biographical seem to shift into high gear and a whole spring of possibilities opens up.
in contrast, january and february are a dark, oppressive world of emotional drear. (and this existential emodrama is now in its third year, so it's apparently going to be an annual event. something to look forward to...) a time of waiting, of wanting it to be march, of being still. as such, they should be months of great productivity and nonstop accomplishment. and so they might be were i any good at stillness.
i am not good at being still. words flow easily when i'm wandering in other cities or on planes and trains. they clog when i am where i am. because when i'm still, i feel stuck. when i'm stuck, i can't write. when i can't write, i think of all the writing i should be doing because i'm still and then i only feel more stuck. less able to write. unable to move.
this is a situation best expressed by marsha's husband wally in a pivotal scene from a very brady christmas, when he has lost his job and is grinding his teeth because he has lost his job and is stressed about the dental bills he's going to incur from grinding his teeth, which he's not going to be able to pay because he has lost his job, which is why he was grinding his teeth in the first place.
that is how january and february feel.
i am grinding my teeth.