I know I can blame the disgusting weather. I know I can blame stress. I know I can blame the poor quality of sleep. I know I can blame the many things out there that have been bothering me for so long and yet have shown no sign of resolution.
But I know, for some reason, that the sum of all these is not the complete attribution to the lingering inertia. I have a gut feeling that there is something else, which I still haven't got any clue what it is all about.
I'm not sure if I would ever have a chance of identifying what it is, let alone taking actions to address it. I just have no clue at all about what to do.
Perhaps I'm the kind of person who never really understands how to appreciate the beauty of ambiguity. While so many people out there seem to enjoy and even go that far to participate in the creation of ambiguity in almost every aspect of life, I'm glad that I have achieved some success in resisting the temptation of doing so. Interpretation of arbitrary words and gestures without any chance of being told the answer is by no means my favourite mental game. In my ideal world, things and people should be clear, precise, straightforward and no-nonsense. Not that I'm too dumb to understand what is truly at stake, but that the process requires so much more time and effort that should have been more effectively utilised elsewhere.
Now that it seems the inertia that has been on and off for six months will lead me to nowhere. This is why it bothers me that much. Over the last couple of months I have virtually done nothing. My long-standing interest in reading, studying, travelling, movie-going and among others, seems to have drained away silently. I have been making an effort to continue reading, but the pleasure is by no means comparable to what it genuinely was. While I plan to visit Japan for the first time and have redeemed a ticket, I haven't started doing any research or background reading as vigorously as I did in preparation for the first trip to Korea two years ago.
The same level of inertia also applies to the enjoyment of films since childhood. When I attended the film festival three weeks ago, I felt like fulfilling a commitment for someone else rather than for my own sake. I still couldn't believe that I had completely forgotten about two European titles at the film festival that ended two weeks ago. Even more surprisingly, when I finally remembered late on that evening that I was supposed to attend two screenings, I didn't even bother to get cross with myself. Perhaps there was a tiny tint of "what a waste of money" inside me, but not anger or regret in any sense, for sure. "So be it," I told myself, as if I didn't book the tickets on my own in the first place.
This is not the first time I am exposed to such moodiness. It's just that it has never been haunting me for so long, and to an extent that deprives me of my interests that have been built all through the years.
What should I do?
Or, should I do anything at all to begin with?