A Sense of Malaise

Times change.  It occurred to me the other day that, once upon a time, I'd have been all over the coverage of the Artemis II moon mission.  I mean, I go way back with this stuff - when I was a child the Apollo missions dominated the news and fascinated us all.  I remember the anxious days and hours of the Apollo 13 mission, when there was a very real chance that they wouldn't make it back - the world held its breath.  I remember at primary school, (or infant school, as it was then called), classes being suspended and the entire school ushered into the main assembly hall, so that we could see the live coverage of a moon landing, (I can't recall whether it was Apollo 12 or Apollo 14 - I suspect the latter).  I was captivated by it all.  A captivation that lasted into adulthood.  Until, it seems, now.  I have to admit that I've barely given a glance to the Artemis II coverage.  Has my 'sense of wonder' regarding space exploration finally faded?  Or is it just that there have been too many distractions - from bereavements to Trump's war in Iran, (actually, let's be honest, even if he isn't waging illegal wars, anything that madman does is guaranteed to distract the entire world from more constructive avenues of activity - it is so bloody exhausting), there have been too many things competing for my attention of late.  More than anything, though, I just don't seem to have the motivation to do anything or get interested in anything much at the moment.  I know it's just part of the fall out from my recent bereavement.  Hopefully, when everything surrounding it is finally done and dusted, I'll be able to move on.

Anyway, all of this is probably the reason why my posts here have, of late, become more introspective than usual, as I try to figure out where I go next.  I seem to be at one of those proverbial crossroads that characters in films find themselves at and agonise over which route to take.  It occurs to me that recent developments have left me with little in the way of family ties to hold me here, where I've lived most of my life.  I could pretty much up and move wherever I liked, without any feelings of guilt about neglecting close and ailing relatives.  I seem to have drifted away from those friends I might have wanted to maintain relationships with - I've tried rekindling some of them, but received no indication that they wanted to do the same thing.  All of which is fine - we all move on in our lives, our circumstances change and old relationships inevitably fall by the wayside.  So, without any real ties here in Crapchester, I could just up and leave.  Go somewhere else.  Start again.  Except that, for the life of me, I cannot, right now, think of any place I'd want up sticks and go to, lock, stock and barrel.  It's like the scene at the end of the seventies TV adaptation of Joseph Wambaugh's The Blue Knight, when the shoeshine guy remarks to William Holden that he'd heard he was retiring from the LAPD and leaving the city, Holden simply replies: 'Where would I go?  What would I do?'.   But maybe that's all part of the grieving process, too, just another part of the general malaise and lack of motivation currently afflicting me.  So, for the time being, I'll be staying put.  But I know that, once everything else is settled, I'm going to have to revisit this idea.  I'll try and find something less introspective to post about tomorrow...