Odd Day

Angels Pass

I'm having an odd day. I would say nothing particularly out of the ordinary is going on but rather the atmosphere just feels off, or I feel off. It was an odd dreaming night but hey, wasn't dreaming of Oprah Winfrey again - not that there's anything wrong with that. It was odd that the squirrels that scurry among the now bare branches of my favorite tree outside my bedroom window weren't in a scurrying mood and so the trees branches remained still. Kinda missed seeing them. I waited at the bank while listening to others complain about how long it was taking. Ok, that's the norm these days but I felt kind of outside it all, like I was watching a movie where people were impatient. I guess this feeling is what's called 'going through the motions', or in my more fanciful mind, maybe I woke up in the wrong dimension. I feel like a flat version of myself just pasted onto whatever we call reality these days. I have these kind of days occasionally. I usually just wait them out till I feel engaging and three dimensional again. 
In the absence of anything that causes me any response today other than MEH - whatev - I started doing research on blogging and how often you should blog. BTW, not a fan of the word blog. Sounds lumpy and uncoordinated. People who've known me for years know I have a 'thing' with some words all the time and then sometimes I have a 'thing' with a particular word for one day. Today it's the word blog and it sounds like I barfed up a frog but, these things are what my mom calls Wendyisms. I also don't like the word pop and will say potcorn instead. I don't know what's gross about that word but it's just gross, yucky and eww. You'd be surprised how many times a day the word pop can come up and gross you out. Anyway, the reigning advice on how often to blog was at least once a day depending on what kind of blog it is or what you want from it. Truthfully, I just want to see what's on my mind at any given time and writing is what works for me. These days, living out loud online seems to be a thing so we'll see. My internet rule of thumb is, don't put anything online that you wouldn't want a potato farmer in Russia to know because you never know who you're talking to. I don't mind if a potato farmer in Russia knows I'm adverse to the word pop. Maybe he is too? I can't promise myself to write every day but only to see where this takes me and go from there.
So, what do you write about on a MEH day? Apparently about the word pop and how gross it is, and the disturbing lack of squirrels in your life. You can also write in reference to your previous post about life changes still on my mind - the nature of change itself; how energy, neither destroyed or created, will change form.
 I started thinking last night that we don't live life, we live change. The coffee I drank this morning is changing breaking down to it's base chemicals and my body is using it, then getting rid of what it doesn't need. In reality, I don't experience much of that on a conscious level unless I focus my attention. I drink it, it's yummy and it's gone - time for more. But underneath the reality I pay attention to, it's changing it's form and changing me in staggeringly complex and beautiful ways. When I focused my meditations on recognizing change it was making me crazy because it's everything and everywhere. My kids changed and grew up. My kitty died and things changed. My best friend died and my life changed. Sigh, it's a mind-boggling constant so I had to stop thinking about it! Ok, I never really stopped thinking about it. I just take breaks. But on MEH days, change is important to remember. Nothing ever stay the same. The MEH will pass dragging with it some other change disguised as a shiny rock I'll feel the need to sit and think about. Maybe that's what the MEH day is about, taking an imaginary breather from the relentlessness march of change. It's perhaps your brain panting with it's tongue out thinking, enough already!
So today I'll be MEH till I'm not. It's useful for cleaning the house and finishing the laundry. Maybe I'll see the neighborhood squirrels at sundown, ready to cozy up for the night. There were two yesterday that struck me as siblings who were daring each other to jump onto increasingly untrustworthy branches. Squirrel goals I guess. I'll go home, fold some towels and the mundanity  will make some sense of my life. They too will eventually become dirty (change) for some reason,  and have to be washed again. It just goes on and on - thank goodness.