What am I doing?
I'm trying to recall what my fucking problem was two weeks ago.
I remember I had gone to bed slightly crabby the night before, and woke up the following morning stiff, dehydrated, with a headache, and just feeling like I really didn't want to go to work.
So I called in sick, and said to myself, "Y'know... this is a good time to get in some Heartstone. Really grind out some ranks."
Ok. That was fucking insipid. What the fuck am I doing?
Try again.
What am I doing with myself?
When I sit still for a while, and really dare to peel back the hastily-constructed layers of consonance I've laid-- like so much wet paint-- over my less flattering idiosyncrasies lately... it makes me physically uncomfortable.
SO. Maybe we should start with that.
(remember to breathe)
(the minor key music may or may not be helping)
You know. When I really pick apart my life, at this stage, I find myself sort of struggling with myself to find.... an agreement. If I were to set them on the merchants' scales, I don't know which would weigh heavier.
Part of me is very pleased with my life. I try to live with an attitude of gratitude. I have very, very much to be thankful for.
And then, if I strip away the outer layers of that, I can find tiny pockets of dissatisfaction.
Like.... I dunno.
I read an article, not so long ago, that said-- take any random day. Now, sit down, and write down what you did with your day, not including work. Pick a day off, if it helps.
What did you do?
Well-- that day is now your microcosm for your life. What you did for that day is really a tiny proxy version of your value system. Did you play games all day? Watch tv? Eat junk food?
This is your life.
When I look at my life is such stark (and honest) terms, I find myself a little torn. I do have things which make me happy. I exercise regularly. I come here regularly to write. I interact with people with whom I enjoy their company. I spend time with Ruth.
And these are all GOOD THINGS.
And then, when I peer a little deeper, the "junk food" of my life doesn't seem really that insidious. Y'know? I don't find myself vexed at how I spend my free time.
What causes me to be unhappy is the fact that there are things I want to do, that I haven't yet.
I want to find time for legitimate meditation.
I want to reach my physical plateau's.
I want to have a strong working psychological knowledge base.
I want to have strong logical fallacy refutation skills.
I want to write stories to guide my friends through.
I want to self-publish a collection of This Nonsense.
I want to get my scarification done.
I want to research the Tao.
I want to I want to get married.
And see... all of those things? It's so. Easy. For me to put them off.
"Ah, I got time. This is something I can do next week. Next month. Next year."
The next time I have free time.
Which, unfortunately will be Not Soon (tm).
See-- there's a certain diminishing returns for a lot of those things. And that's the part, I think, that makes me "feel bad". I know that the longer I put those things off, the less applicable they will become.
I'm slowly robbing myself of my own sense of satisfaction in learning or accomplishing these things.
And when I think about it, it makes me angry at myself. Y'know?
It's like, the self-serving slug within me is warring with the disciplined scholar. I know I have the capacity to learn~do~achieve these things. They aren't even unreasonable by literally any stretch!
I just... don't make time for them.
I suppose that speaks rather highly of Katie, and the way I immediately and consistently made time to write to-and-or-about her for nearly a year. There was little resistance. I simply did it. There were no excuses. No bargaining with myself.
I simply.... did.
And so. How do I tap that?
I mean, really-- it's as simple as going down the list and doing one thing at a time, right? Pick a day-- or a chunk of time-- to devote to one of the above things... and simply see it through.
Why is that so difficult?
It doesn't make any rational sense. Because there's other things in my life-- my relationships, exercise, writing-- that I can maintain with no difficulty.
So why are these other things any different?
You know... sitting here and thinking about it... I know a part of me is simply hoping that someone will come along and sort of... relieve me of the accountability of it all. Just ... help me make the decisions that need to be made. Or lean on me in a such a way that I'm forced to engage with these ideas in a real, meaningful and resolving way.
But what the FUCK kind of life is that?
Ayn Rand would slap my face. And then, I would slap my own face, immediately after.
Ugh. It's disgusting.
(And see? This is the kind of shit I'm talking about. I took a 5 minute break to listen to a song, and ended up hyperlinking into some random corner of the internet that would up with me unreasonably angry, and loathing people even more than I'm angry with myself. People are fucking disgusting, and I hate them. BUT I'VE NO ONE TO BLAME BUT MYSELF! And in the meantime, I just spent 5 minutes-- that I'll never get back-- on an activity that had no productive result whatsoever. In fact, it was counterintuitive to any sort of Tao internalization)
Just fucking ugh.
I've been lax in writing down the notes I need in order to pluck out the tiny inconsistencies within my own head. I just started again today, and it hasn't been nearly good enough.
Hrm.
And see? Now I've run out of momentum.
Jesus fuck. I have so many more things to write about.
Well. Its late, and there's no more epiphanies to be had, now.
Tomorrow I'll really roll up my sleeves and dig into the viscera.
11:13 p.m. - 2014-09-15
Recent entries:
Tossi Propter - 2018-07-02
Summerscorch - 2018-07-02
Heartdesert - 2018-06-25
Elliptical - 2018-06-25
Back and Callback - 2018-06-18
My profile
Archives
Notes
Diaryland
Random
RSS
others:
As-I-know-it
Nicim
Breathe-Salt
Swordfern
Star-Brite
Swallowthkey
ATwoWayDream
HumHum
Secret-motel
AndWeBreathe
MovingSands
WeAteTheSea