New Year’s Eve.
And I’ve got nothing.
No desire to move or do anything.
Whiteboard? Empty.
General’s Tent? Empty.
Body plan? Being plan? Balance plan? Business plan?
Nothing.
I feel like Papa Bear, bedding down for a big, fat nap of nothing.
What do the French call it? Ennui.
Life will certainly come at me, and it behooves me to prepare—to come at it in return.
But right now, I’m not going anywhere or doing anything.
I’m just… sitting.
I’m not unhappy.
I’m not depressed.
I’m just… not inclined to do anything at all in this moment.
If I sit long enough, maybe something will occur to me.
But right now…
I just sit.
PS: This is simply a report of the current state, not a diagnosis.