Perhaps what I’ve been feeling is a side effect of this illness thing that I’ve been dealing with, but I’m seriously in a funk. I know, I know, it seems like I’m always in a funk. As far as funks go, this one kind of feels like a large one. During Monday night’s improv class, I wasn’t feeling all that great. My energy levels were low and I was feeling like shit. This sort of made itself apparent in the way I was communicating. I was lacking focus and had a fair bit of difficulty stringing thoughts together.

There was one particular activity where we had to work on setting up a game. This involves explaining and soliciting suggestions from a prospective audience. When it came to my turn, in order to compensate for my flagging energy I pulled out a lot of nervous energy from my deep reserves. Immediately the teacher called me out on it. He wanted me to be more calm and in control. Eugh. Well, I tried, but in the process my trains of thought kept crashing. Seriously, in general I’m really good at communicating and making myself understood. That day however was just rough. I felt like I had a cloud hanging overhead. In terms of actually acting in the various scenes, I continued to make sound decisions (so says I) but I just didn’t feel satisfied. Was I enjoying myself? No, I wasn’t. My teacher picked up on it and seemed concerned. I blamed being on medications to battle my sickness as part of the reason I was having a very-off-day, but really that was just an attempt to get him off my case. The night wore on like this, leaving me feeling sour in general.

That night at the bar, I had a lot to think about. Even being around friends wasn’t enough to buoy my mood. This is where the thought of quitting crossed my mind. Yeah, I actually considered just giving it all up: coaching, running, improv. I quickly stuffed that thought away. I mean, running away won’t solve a thing. Still, something needs adjusting or a little recalibration. I need to find my way again because right now I’m just feeling a little lost.

Yesterday, in my funk I decided I wanted to do something self-destructive. I was considering drinking that whole bottle of red wine that’s been sitting in my cupboard for a long while. Thing is, that’s a waste of a good bottle for such a non-event. Plus, no matter what anyone says, I’m not a lush. Mmm…I was actually close to getting my head shaved. I wanted to do something mildly drastic. In the end, I decided that wasn’t an option either. I ended up compromising and shaving off the facial hair. God, I look so young now. Not sure if I like it.

Aaaargh.

(At least I’m not into cutting…)

Am I really such an angry man?

Do I really have that much frustration to vent?

Is there a reason that even small things have the power to cause me aggravation?

Is my life such that I actually have room for that kind of minor rage?

Am I ironically at peace with being exasperated?

Do I always have to be so acerbic?

Are people more apt to keep distance due to general bitchiness?

Is abrasiveness a defence mechanism?

Why am I so annoyed?