Doing Nothing, Saying Nothing

This summer, I may take part in a workshop intended to explore what it means to do nothing. Today, I feel like I could be practicing for it.

I’m having one of those days where the various options before me fail to provoke; even the standby bike ride around the neighborhood is failing to impel me to action.

Part of this, I suspect is due to several days, that is nights, of overindulging. Thursday, I stayed up way too late on the .83 ride; Friday, I had a bit too much fun taking part in the Office Chair Downhill; last night, Jen and I went to a benefit dance party for a local arts organization; we closed down the event and then made last call at a nearby bar; that’s the first time we’ve done that in a while. All told, we had a pretty good time, mostly cracking wise with people, some of whom we know better than others, but I’m paying the price today, emotionally, if not entirely physically (I was driving our car, so restrained my consumption of poisons more than I might have usually.)

But another part of my lack of initiative today can be attributed, I think, to a general sense of malaise precipitated by tragedy at Virginia Tech earlier this week, especially today’s news that Cho fired more than 100 bullets at his victims. It makes me just want to curl up in a fetal position in my bedroom knowing that someone so deeply troubled was able to purchase a 9 millimeter automatic handgun and then buy bullets with no problem off eBay.

And I’m left feeling powerless to do anything about it and while I realize it’s a cop-out in many ways to say that, I nevertheless end up sitting around on a Sunday like this with no incentive to do anything by way of response.

You’d think, at least, I’d have the good taste to not say anything either.