Month: June 2019

The term I came up with is ‘immeasurably drained’. My partner is leaning towards depression as a more apt term. Broken seems to encompass all of that. The blog has gone really dark and that was never the intent. I’m in a bit of a funk and cannot for the life of me figure a way out. Usually completing something (anything) serves as a jumpstart. I have some writing I MUST complete, some crafting I have an opportunity to finish, a playbook (which it seems more and more like will never ever get used) that I am a 4th of the way there on. All of these are projects I can and will continue. None of it feels magical or right or is serving to improve any measure of happiness at present. So, I am stuck wondering what, if anything, to do about it all.

Obviously I gotta do something. Cannot be funky forever. One thing is to try to get a little healthier. Over the last few days I have eaten a grand total of 4 meals. That is a correctable offense. I can also get back to the gym. Those two things will help, but I don’t see them lifting me up.

Got a notebook today with the intention of writing stuff down/making daily plans. Maybe that helps. In essence this is quickly becoming a treatise on how to survive lethargy (read: probable depression). Some of it may be self sabotage, but I really don’t have an honest understanding of what/how that works. Yes, things were going well and on the surface they still are going well. It is the interior corrosion that is making the well seem not so. Which, I suppose defines self sabotage.

What really gets me is that I am supposed to be on vacation. This is supposed to be the heart of my vacation season and it feels less like that and more like a draining period that is not going to have/leave me fresh for the work to come. Moreover, I don’t know what to do about it.

Some Thoughts:

1. Nope, no real thoughts either…

The writing escape did not go well. I am in need of a real escape. Actually leaving the state or the daily struggle or something. I need 24 hours of Talis time to get things back on track.

What is interesting is that my biggest strength (IMHO) as a writer is where I am failing here. I am not developing dynamic characters and locations. That is what I do! To not be able to trigger that within me is a real struggle and a personal let down. It demands change and perhaps by change I mean some sense of stability. I’m struggling with that mightily. I had my feet right for a minute and then I got hurt and then my world exploded (again) and I haven’t gotten my feet right since. I have, unsurprisingly, retreated into the oh so wonderful world of Minecraft where I can push towards (largely undefined) goals quite readily.

What I will say is that I did dip my toes in story for a second today. I looked and laid out and considered. I recognized what needed to be done, but failed to actually accomplish it. This failure represents the potential for growth. I cannot continue to suck like this–I realize that. I also realize that in this failure I see the bones of what is needed to be successful. I see that I need to get back to handwriting lists and setting aside real hours tucked far away enough from everyone that their world and needs do not impede. My kids offered me some of that this weekend, but I failed to seize the opportunity properly. I came up short there by spinning off into fantasy and youtube and not doing the hard work needed.

All I or anyone can really do in this situation is keep trying. I don’t expect to give up. I expect to pick up where I left off and get it right this time.

Some Thoughts:

1. Found a new breakfast spot. Pricey but good service.
2. Until right now, I haven’t experienced silence for close to a week. I haven’t actually been alone (outside of my car) for close to a week. I know that is part of the problem. A big part. I crave family but that has to be balanced with solitude. I need a few hours a week just me and the silence and laptop nearby. If I can take that time and not waste it on games, I might have a chance at success.
3. Anxiously waiting to see if I get a much needed raise. I am drastically underpaid in comparison to my fellow faculty. All signs point to it staying that way, but one can dream.

Today I was looking at the outline for my youth football playbook and thinking about tendency breakers–plays I can install and call each week that are completely out of character from our normal situational plays. These sort of shakeups are good for the team and good for the competition, because it forces them to recognize that we are not always going to be vanilla and do as expected. This holds true of the writing as well. I’ve struggled mightily as of late to the point where I’ve failed to hit my word mark for over a week now. Not once have I done the right thing and fought through towards success. It appears that I need a tendency breaker in order to get me off and out of this funk and back towards a successful trend of writing.

I need something to pop, because I am failing hard. The bulk of the problem is the level of stress coursing through these narrow veins with no real sense of ability to use writing as an outlet for that stress. Some of that comes from what I am writing. Some of that comes from what I have not figured out how to write.

Either way, I need to get out. My plan is to find a restaurant, hunker down with some food, and put down serious pages. I’m stuck on a specific project because I wrote a huge chunk of it and accidentally deleted the chunk. I cannot seem to get past that to write the chunk again. I need to get past that tomorrow. I need to get to moving forward and finishing these last 3-4 parts of the project in order to be on to the next, and the next. That is how professional writers work. Tendency breakers help to get me off my ‘spot’ so to speak and get me into a mindset that I expect to lead me to success.

I’ll let you know what happens.

Some Thoughts:

1. Back to the gym Wednesday. There is a lot to be done. A lot more to be planned in regards to understanding how to lose 20-30 lbs safely.
2. As I say this my back feels sore. Karma.
3. Still going. We shall see the results.

Happy Poppa Day to all the fathers out there. Hopefully the day has and is going well for all of you. We get overlooked and under-looked at the same time as fathers. On the one hand being a dad is about being there for your kids and playing with them and making them feel loved and wanted and instructed and even disciplined. On the other hand being a father is perceived as rare in more than just the black culture. In the era of single black moms there was an associated era of stay at home non-black moms and absentee fathers. In truth, there was a generation where the dad was only a temporary fixture at best and the moms enforced the growth and household for much of America.

In theory.

Also in media. It is always about the mom–even the mom and the maid (see Brady Bunch). It can occasionally be about the Dad in the media spectrum but more often than not the dad is portrayed as the worker of the family (even when both work the dad primarily works and the mom is responsible for work AND home). Remember, this is the generation that is was so out of touch with proper balance in gender roles that there was a wildly successful movie called Mr. Mom that spoke of a dad who stayed at home. This was later followed by Daddy Daycare and other films suggestion the alien nature of a dad left to care for his kids.

I was born into that world, but as a dad it is often just me and these 3 dudes. In the other half of the week it is me, my partner and our other three kids and the shift and the balance is far more evident on that side. Honestly, here can feel a bit overwhelming and 90% thankless.

Still, I love my kids and I love the Dad role I was born to have. I am not that great at it and in the last few years I’ve been more and more responsible and less and less good at the job. Part of that is the kids growing up and being less cuddly and far far less helpful or willing to listen. Part of it is changes in my own life and priorities.

Some Thoughts:

1. I’m not exactly bored. I think a better term is distressed. It is hard to even put into words, but I am not right or happy or settled on many levels.

Not much to say this evening. Feeling pretty low. I thought I might power out of it with a story, but no such luck. I took some of the kids to see Godzilla King of the Monsters and, well, decent. Seemed like a ton of fan service right down to the casting. It also served to prep us for the long awaited Kong vs. Godzilla, which can’t really end without the two teaming up to beat down someone or something else…

Some Thoughts:

1. Interesting mystery unfolding in the Dominican Republic regarding a string a mysterious deaths possibly related to hotel mini-fridge alcohol.
2. The news is fairly focused on nonsense these days. Click bait is the way of the news world.
3. Back injury is thankfully fading.
4. So is my desire to get out of bed each morning. I might be going through something.

“I’ve come to think of these weekends as a rebirth.” She said, holding her champagne flute in that delicate way–pinky lifted just so–that had come to be associated with class and wealth. Paolo couldn’t help but think that this woman–he had to remember she was his wife now–was all too arrogant and far too drunk. The two made for a dangerous combination. After all, wasn’t it that very same cocktail that found him in the situation he was now?

Paolo smiled nevertheless. He ran a hand through his thick black hair, knowing the gesture brought a smile to her face and a drink to her lips. Indeed she sipped again and he smiled. She said, “Don’t you love it here?”

He said, “Olivia, love, this place is backdrop to what brings me joy.”

Nearby a couple watched them flirt. It was an older couple–the man at least twenty years his elder. The woman was approaching Olivia’s forty years. He put her as a second wife. There were never first wives at a party like this. In the case of Paolo he was the only second husband. It should’ve made him feel like an outcast; a plaything like all the other younger spouses. Just the other day he’d been leaving the gym and saw a woman exiting her Mercedes SUV, a younger blonder version of herself stitched to each arm, all three dolled up in Lulu Lemon, their bright hair cascading down their backs. The oldest of the two children was no more than 12 but already on her way to being a version of her mother. It was the license that drew his attention. TRFYWYF. He’d gasped a laugh, thinking at first, at least she knows what she is and then wondering if the spelling meant that other women had already beaten her to the plate.

Some Thoughts:

1. Before the clock runs dry I wanted to point out that the last bit in this vignette is real. It happened to my partner. She saw said plate and mom and girls at the gym and I knew I had to put it together in something. The rest just felt like the proper wrapping for that little gift.
2. The title Binge and Purge is reflective of where the story was heading. He binges on wealthy women and sex but found himself trapped in this situation where he realizes that he is the one being used and is dismissed for a younger model.

In the end he had to drag the thing. He used two hands, lugging the bag behind him as it jounced over alley refuse, snagged for a moment in a sour puddle, then finally gave. He huffed and puffed from the exertion. He wasn’t used to carrying anything larger than foldaway tablet, an ecig, and his eccentrically large wallet stuffed with old business cards from people he’d never call. Cory smelled of sweat and perfumed vape smoke. He grinned almost evilly at his accomplishment as he sat there in the black alley staring down at the duffle.

It could have been a body in there. In a way it was. This body, cut from industrial plastics, reused and re-sodered metal pipe. The extension legs were still a work in progress. He had to remind himself to lean into the thing when he finally got it standing, less it fall backwards, where he’d never get it off the ground again. Maybe it would kill him on impact. Wouldn’t that be the ultimate piece of installation art?

Cory sucked in a dry breath. He was long past daydreaming. This was all about execution. On the still wind he could hear traffic from the alley mouth, people moving back and forth in the ant tracks of their lives, a siren distant but still close enough for his heart to catch in a long red pulse. He was so close now.

He dug into the bag, starting with the base. This part was easy. He’d made the thing so that the base could roll up on its own. The wobbly metal extension pipes he called legs slid into holsters at either side of the thing. Finally the head. It was a repurposed gas mask, the breathers marred by several dozen tiny nozzles also repurposed from the dozens of printers he’d found at the dumpsite. Once the ink started costing more than the printers he’d started collecting the old things. It wasn’t long after that inspiration struck.

On its legs now the thing looked like a pot-bellied dwarf in a gas mask. He giggled, just a little as he threw the main switch. The dwarf bucked and wobbled and Cory nearly forgot to brace himself against its back. Cory shot out his too thin arms and leaned into it as it started to topple. He caught it flush and it righted itself. The the machine started to rise. It elevated to four times its height, balancing on those metal poles, scanning the far wall of the alley like a thing stolen from lost in space.

It made no sound. It’s garrish gas-mask head swiveled left, then right, then focused on a spot on the wall. Then, it began to draw.

Some Thoughts:

1. Decided to use the time to put down a quick first draft on a micro piece about a guy and his drawing bot making grafitti in an alley.
2. Had to renumber a handful of entries, because I skipped a number at some point. I’ll eventually need to go back through the 3300+ recorded entries and figure out how many more were misnumbered…

A room away the 17 and over members of the family are watching Westworld (series, not film). They’ve been looking for something interesting and engaging to consume. That has me thinking about the idea of consumption in general. I consume stories on a daily basis. I play Minecraft as an effort to create story–to recreate the magic and wonder of years gone D&D thrills in a new form. In all of this the key is consumption–not distraction. I’m not trying to avoid or escape. I’m trying to grow. Is consumption growth? Is it pointless? What am I even doing anyhow?

Yes, deep thoughts and perhaps lacking any real meaning beyond philosophy. There is the ‘garbage in, garbage out’ thinking that guides a deal of what I watch and read. However, I still do watch and read a lot. I do it every day. I do that far more than I create. I write far less than I read and especially watch. I believe most people are that way. We are all consumers and few of us are creators.

I don’t know why this matters, but I feel like it does matter–deeply. I feel like I need to be thinking more about the role consumption plays in my life. It feels like I exist to experience or more specifically to consume experiences, be it my own or those through the lens of story. There is a difference between the two, but I am unsure how much that difference actually matters in the modern world.

Some Thoughts:

1. Getting back to blogging earlier and getting things done at the beginning of the day, so the evening belongs to partnership and leisure.
2. Back injury is still really raw. I was supposed to go hiking Friday, but that is already cancelled. Hopefully the extra few days will give me more healing. I could use more healing for sure.
3. Looking forward to Game 6 on Thursday. I don’t see it going to Game 7.
4. Started on my magical football playbook. It is an engaging and interesting process that is helping me become more knowledgable in the sport and also pushing the limits of my understanding and ability. It is really fun.

I’m moving it up, because I really want to talk about last night’s game. Specifically, I want to say that there were three huge moments that made this series last one more game. This is a story in three parts.

Part I:

I’ve said a lot about the Durant ‘Conspiracy’ and I stand by a little bit of it. I probably shouldn’t. Durant appears to have ruined his ACL. The tear sets back his future money as teams are left to wonder if he can recover. Someone will take the risk, but maybe not the somebody he wanted. He showed up and played hard at the start of Game 5 but went down with an injury. Now his future is in serious doubt… unless the entire thing is a scam to put him on another super team without really having to cost him his remaining dignity and the standing argument that he cannot do it alone (he cannot).

Part II:

Nurse called a timeout. Leonard was on fire and they were pulling away. Still, Nurse called a timeout. Then it all went to hell. They managed to hold on a little bit but the reality of the thing is that they were pushing the Warriors into a corner and Nurse called a timeout! Why? He’s being panned for the action. He should be.

Part III:

But not as much as poor #7. He missed the last shot so badly that it clanged off the side of the backboard.. There is really no way to excuse that, but it feels like we have already done that. Go figure.

I’ve been thinking about the future a lot lately. I am thinking about the future of my life, relationship, writing, gaming, etc. I am also giving a great deal of thought to the future of my blog. I want the blog to be more compartmentalized yet more about the general idea of writing (i.e. less about me blathering into the storm). I have swirled around this idea for years–even focusing Wednesdays on a sports theme. I feel like as I have de-compartmentalized my life in many ways, the blog has done the same. Perhaps the blog is the place for that separation. Perhaps doing that provides the basis for less of that in my physical life.

Part of the idea come from the thought of being 100% present. I feel like I fail to be present in many things. I tend to have so much going on that presence is only ever going to be limited. So, the larger conversation is about learning how to be present. I feel as though the blog may help with that.

Some Thoughts:

1. I was reading old posts and it got me thinking about the numbering system. In 24 days I’ll be done with (3). I don’t know if Always Forward means I go to 4 or just go forward by adding up the total number of posts and beginning with whatever number that is. I feel there is a more philosophical significance in there than I lend credence to on the surface.