Day: July 11, 2018

The death of my mac has certainly messed up my mood. You could say that it brought me to my own personal black screen of death. I don’t blame the mac entirely. My mood has been in rough territory for some time. I am trying to strike a balance–find a way that everyone in my life gets attention and is happy. I fear that in that someone is always being ignored or not cared for, etc. I also think that the laptop represented a type of crutch. It was opportunity and connectivity. So long as I had it I could work, which made me feel like I would work even if I didn’t. Removed from the opportunity for even that, I find that there is little to keep my heart and soul from plummeting into the depths of disappointment and to no small extent,  negative self-actualization.

In short, I do actually suck now and I am lazy, and I no longer have agency in any of it. That is my worst fear–the loss of the opportunity to get this thing right and turn myself around. Maybe deep down I know that it is already too late for that and this small moment (brought to you by Apple) is just a taste of the future the way I see the future sometimes when I put on a shirt and look like all of those beer belly guys.

So, this too is an opportunity for me to show that this possible future is only still one of many and that I do have agency in my life. If I actually believe that I do.

This has been a particularly difficult day. For starters I am blogging in the shadow of my broken laptop. This is a problem in general but specifically because the projects I’ve been working on–including a novel–sit open on the desktop of the broken computer. This means the files will be corrupted and I cannot say for certain how much, if any, data can be recovered by my tech guys. I’m sad for a number of reasons and this is foremost among them.

The rest is minor league. I did have a moment today where I could not properly hold a joystick or remember the controls for a game. I was summarily slaughtered by my children one after the other. I am okay with losing but less okay with feeling crippled and discombobulated. I am starting to suspect that there is something actually wrong with me. I don’t know what to point to save for these minor things that medical people are likely to misdiagnose or overlook. I know only that I feel off.

Some Thoughts:

1. I added the second header on free will because it seemed relevant, but as I am typing I have no idea why it was relevant.
2. I also recognize that my memory is wildly off kilter.
3. I’m listening to that same Scalzi piece and he’s talking about writer’s block in a way that seems more like a meditation for himself than anything.
4. 10×4: New idea to spend ten minutes out of an hour four hours a day working on a critical writing project. A solid ten of words produces volume. Of course, I just need to stop being a lazy piece of shit and recognize that the writing matters or it doesnt.