One of my favorite movies growing up was Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade. It was funny and full of action and romance and … just a touch of the morbid. Maybe it was a bit of prescience about the emo chick I would turn into when I got older, but one of the many scenes that stuck with me from the movie was when the Knight Templar in the cave talked about the burden of drinking from the Grail every day, and how sometimes, even though it was the only thing keeping him alive, he just didn’t have the will to do it.
Because, you know, drinking the magical elixir of life is hard. Or something.
Except it kind of is, if you’re alone in a cave for hundreds of years.
It’s super melodramatic, but I feel that way about mundane things all the time. I love my job. I love my life. Writing and talking to people online and editing and reading are what keep me alive. And yet some days… I just don’t have the will to do any of them.
Like I said. Emo chick.
This happens more in the fall than any other time of year. Something about the days getting shorter and temperatures getting cooler. It’s always made me want to crawl into a cave and hibernate for hundred of years. Most days I beat the emo down and get to work and I always feel better because I did. And some other days, I look at that life-giving cup and I just say… Nah. Not today.
