The View from my Navel

I am definitively, past-hope bored when I sing Norah Jones with a strong Glaswegian accent. "Ye'll..beee..own...my...min'....furr...rehehver."

At 4am I watched a rivetting program on the Periodic Table, the alkali metals. It set me brooding on my compromised scientific skills - did I miss the gene? Had I a rotten teacher? Character defects? Because it is inherently fascinating, chemistry in particular. I am tempted to get some simple text on the Periodic Table just for fun. How could Sodium be a step up from Neon? It opens worlds before my feet.

Also fretting that I can't draw perspective, which is needed for the view down Norma and Michael's hall to the new doors. A night course in Measured Drawing perhaps.

So, the Siren's Call at the moment is coming from:
Chemistry
Drawing
Choir

Which sounds like a lifetime at community college.

I was so limp yesterday I floated up the hill from the Farmers' Market, but at least it doesn't hurt much. It helps to know it isn't real pain, just the nerves firing blanks, and I don't feel pain like other people anyway.

Maybe my complaint is at being confined (right now) to the life of the mind, when I so love getting my hands mucky. Involvement in the natural world, involvement with people. Stamina. I can see all these things, but can't touch them.