Well, well. It has been a long time. It seems that I visit this post whenever things are really good or really bad. At the moment things are not good. But this irony of it is that they are not bad. No one is ill, dying, in trouble, drowning or otherwise in jeopardy. I am, in a word, nowhere, and I have not changed in at least two years like someone drowning who won't swim to shore, but simply won't get on with it and and simpley drown. Does that count as drowning? I don't think the answer to that one is half as important as the light bulb that flickers on and the tickertape feed with a messgae that says,
"you aren't swimming either."
For some people this is so hard and I always despised them, now I know why, I always feared I would become one of them, and now I have become so unappreciative, so ungrateful. I fritter away the mornings until it's too late to begin the day. The job I started on Friday, I should have finished it yesterday, and now it's today and I am here, old enough to know better than to be lazy, than to procrastinate on something that I can say is important but doesn't bring in a dime, and robs time from work that does.
Damn, I hate when this happens.
I came home today to regroup, to look at old writings, to remember how I dug myself back out of this.
I think I started a journal piece a year or so ago, after trying to destroy a relationship to gain a new start on life. I titled it "The Last New Day," and it was about a renewed commitment to myself and to those I loved. I think it lasted just one day. It was going to be the last renewal, the last transformation, it was going to mark a turning point in my life from whence I would never look back. I am such an adaptable creature, for every vice I set down I am able to pick up another. I can take an ordinarily healthy activity and turn it into a vice, so long as it takes time and requires enough concentration to forget what I meant to or should be doing. Oops, kind of like what I am doing right now. Well, it's time to go make some plans and committments, personal and otherwise, and to clean up what messes my neglect has spawned. Damn, I hate when this happens. It's so simple to keep things going while I figure things out. I checked out and shut down months ago, probably sometime in the fall, no it was before the summer, probably even before that. I haven't put a new direction in place of the old one that failed. Oh, I've talked about things I would like to do, would like to have done by now, but no action on any of them. Just like today, no action. Sunday nights I think, would be a good time for moments like this. Save them all up for Sunday night when I can induldge myself in the self-obsessed angst... You know sometimes I just like to hear myself talk. I suspect this gets started when I don't write, it all gets backed up and begins to wander aimlessly meandering through old memories unfettered by sense or reason, feeding on whatever it can find, with less direction than the weather. Reminds me of the misdirection of the Screwtape Letters now that I look at it.
"you aren't swimming either."
For some people this is so hard and I always despised them, now I know why, I always feared I would become one of them, and now I have become so unappreciative, so ungrateful. I fritter away the mornings until it's too late to begin the day. The job I started on Friday, I should have finished it yesterday, and now it's today and I am here, old enough to know better than to be lazy, than to procrastinate on something that I can say is important but doesn't bring in a dime, and robs time from work that does.
Damn, I hate when this happens.
I came home today to regroup, to look at old writings, to remember how I dug myself back out of this.
I think I started a journal piece a year or so ago, after trying to destroy a relationship to gain a new start on life. I titled it "The Last New Day," and it was about a renewed commitment to myself and to those I loved. I think it lasted just one day. It was going to be the last renewal, the last transformation, it was going to mark a turning point in my life from whence I would never look back. I am such an adaptable creature, for every vice I set down I am able to pick up another. I can take an ordinarily healthy activity and turn it into a vice, so long as it takes time and requires enough concentration to forget what I meant to or should be doing. Oops, kind of like what I am doing right now. Well, it's time to go make some plans and committments, personal and otherwise, and to clean up what messes my neglect has spawned. Damn, I hate when this happens. It's so simple to keep things going while I figure things out. I checked out and shut down months ago, probably sometime in the fall, no it was before the summer, probably even before that. I haven't put a new direction in place of the old one that failed. Oh, I've talked about things I would like to do, would like to have done by now, but no action on any of them. Just like today, no action. Sunday nights I think, would be a good time for moments like this. Save them all up for Sunday night when I can induldge myself in the self-obsessed angst... You know sometimes I just like to hear myself talk. I suspect this gets started when I don't write, it all gets backed up and begins to wander aimlessly meandering through old memories unfettered by sense or reason, feeding on whatever it can find, with less direction than the weather. Reminds me of the misdirection of the Screwtape Letters now that I look at it.
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