Here comes the rain. Again. Annie Lennox and her instrumentation both sound like rain falling. Today the rain came again with thunder and lightning, scared the dog, made me worry about power surges, and sapped my motivation. I have to force myself, because things don’t get done on their own.
Mrs M is doing laundry, brainstorming about meal plans for next week, and she’ll go shopping later. I took out the trash, in the rain. I’m still a bit damp. I set up the dishwasher and turned it on, and just put away the clean dishes I washed this morning. There are always dirty dishes, no matter how hard I look for the last one. Three or four show up right after the water is out of the sink. I have a list of things to do today, and it’s because I want them done.
I want to break out my instrument and practice; it’s been a while since I’ve done that. But that would be recreation and therapy, not “work.” Mrs M reminds me that clothes don’t fold or hang themselves, while I’m mustering the energy to face the rest of the dishes. Why that tone of voice drains me, I do not know.
I want to clean, sweep and mop the floor with bleach. I want to do some work for work that I didn’t feel motivated to do at work. I brought the thing home with me to possibly do stuff.
I also want to do nothing, curl up with the dog and take a nap.
But he needs to go for a walk soon.
This is why I like music playing loudly when I have stuff to do: because the other noises de-motivate me while, they think, “encouraging” me. By guilt. I want to listen to something that’s not the other noises, to shut out the other voices, but I don’t know what it is. I know it isn’t running water or rain or “words of encouragement.” I don’t want to think about this past week. Failure and depression, added to depression.
My daughter was watching Bill Nye “save the world” today and he talked about science, medicine, homeopathy, and bullshit. He talked about sound therapy, and the girl he sent to get a treatment said honestly she went in an unbeliever, endured treatment a skeptic, and left not feeling any better. But what if it’s about your faith, which he would call “the placebo effect?” What if it’s not the right sound, so she didn’t feel any better?
I’m going to see if some good music motivates me. Fuck you and your lack of faith, Mr. Nye. You’re not going to save the fucking world with science. You can’t even save yourself, let alone help me. Although, if you’re free, I have vacuuming that needs to be done. I’ve got stuff to do, and I’m going to try to stay focused and motivated and shut out all the discouraging, draining noises.
We’ll see if it’s a victory. We’ll see if I find the right sound.
I’ll let you know.
What music motivates you?