Posted tagged ‘life’

The battle internal

June 23, 2014

Would it be fair to say that this place has lacked attention lately? Sure. Okay. I won’t fight you on that one. Heck, I won’t fight you for much of anything, unless it’s making me do something The Lazy doesn’t want me to do. Imagine the battle going on right now in my head over writing this article.

Me: I really need to do a brain dump and get some things off my sluggish mind.

The Lazy: Or, you could get sidetracked by your annoying co-worker who has taken over loud-speakerphone duties from the guy who held the championship belt before he retired.

Me: But what about sparking creativity and advancing my skill?

The Lazy: Here’s a bag of salty snacks and some meaningless videos to tempt you back to the brain-couch.

Here’s the problem: my soul is starting to itch. That deep-down itch like a million caterpillars are crawling out of my spiritual bunghole and I’m on some public stage where I couldn’t possibly itch it without causing a scene. And it was made worse this past weekend.

A good friend of mine unknowingly turned a set of high-intensity flood lights on my lack of meaningful accomplishments in life. It wasn’t his intention. He’s just so smart that he can do two things at once: 1) reveal a plan to revolutionize space exploration that is so simple and perfect that you can’t imagine why it hasn’t already been done and 2) cut to the core of what is going wrong with society as a whole. Interestingly enough, his stated reason for wanting to make his dream come true, aside from the obvious “holy crap, this is going to be so cool!” factor, was to get people talking again. And I don’t mean here, in the land of ones and zeros, but face to face. And even this was lost on at least one person who had to immerse himself in his social media while the discussions were still on-going. It made me smad. Sad/mad.

Having highly intelligent, and motivated, friends can be like owning the world’s most powerful computer. You know you could grow and expand your mind, pursue lofty and meaningful goals and likely become a better person. But then you see a commercial for a new video game, or you notice that Princess Pretty Face posted about her dinner on social media, and you get distracted. Well, not the truly intelligent folks, but people like me who anthropomorphize states of being and give them names like The Lazy to cover up the fact that they’re simply…well, lazy.

Finding out that a good friend of mine will likely be the talk of generations to come should have been like a defibrillator on my sleepy spirit. It should have galvanized me into returning to my attempts at finishing the second draft of what will likely end up as my never-finished book. What did I do instead of slapping myself hard across the face and then pounding away at the keyboard like a crack-addled primate? I took the easy way out, I let stuff distract me. In that moment, I realized that I’m no better than the person at my friend’s meeting who buried himself in social media while meaningful discussion was still going on.

To be fair to myself, I actually am currently pursuing lesser goals. I’ve knocked out fifty percent of a technical certification I’ve wanted for a while, and I’m working toward another goal that I’ve recently begun touting as a large part of my retirement plan: SCUBA instructor. But I’m still restless, which makes me wonder if the ants in my creative pants mean that I’m still not doing what I’m meant to do. But I’m nothing if not selectively patient. Make hard decisions about what path to take in my life that will lead to fulfillment and happiness? Eh, I’ve got time. Grind out countless hours on video games and movie-watching? I’m on it, stat!

Maybe I just need to stop being so rough on myself for not accomplishing anything but making it through each successive day without pissing too many people off. Maybe that’s the problem, not being rough enough on myself to spur action. Action that can get past the goal-line defense The Lazy has set up for anything that takes away from my beloved “free time”. Maybe I just need to get over myself. Yeah, that last one.

A big slice of lame

June 25, 2013

You may be saying to yourself, “Dude, I thought you were going to write one article a week. What the heck happened?” To which I would reply, “Listen, crazy nagging voice in my head, is ‘dude’ the best you could come up with to get my attention? What about ‘lazy word pimp’ or ‘punk-ass scribbler’? Also, you’re not the boss of me, other me.”

Seriously, I’ve started several posts that I’ve slogged about 1/4th of the way through before abandoning them like dumpster babies. Canvas-bag-of-puppies-in-the-river? I don’t know, whichever is more offensive, but you get the picture. I lose my connection to the piece and begin to heckle my own topic and style. I know, I don’t like that guy either.

I’m just feeling a distinct lack of inspiration lately, the kind of lull where you are more inclined to follow the happily pestering voice cajoling you to go play more video games, or plant yourself on the couch for re-re-reruns. Those voices are getting more funding from my brain lately, so they’re campaigning like champs, promising me leveled-up game characters, bags of snack foods and frequent naps. Their constituents, my hands, feet, mouth and stomach, are weak and easily swayed. Bastard traitors.

To make things worse, I keep a calendar at work that I write the title of each entry on each day I’ve written something. In bold permanent marker. Makes the blank spaces stand out like screaming white holes of shame. But is is fun to come up with witty explanations for the calendar words.

Co-worker: Why do you have “Stupidity” written for Wednesday?

Me: That was the day you called me at my desk phone and asked me if I was at work.

Here’s the thing: I’m not a celebrity, so writing about what I’ve eaten, or what project at work is giving me brain-pain, or who I’m sleeping with (a hint: it rhymes with Achebeyo) is just plain boring to anyone not related to me or trying to keep constant tabs on me for obscure reasons that make me constantly feel like I need a shower. And I’m clearly not doing this for me. Much. Okay, the ego boost of having people read what you write is almost worth the pillow-wringing frustration of seeing fewer and fewer hits on your blog.

It’s hard to find a niche when you don’t really have any true direction in your writing. Oh sure, I could blather on and on about the silly stories I have from my life, or, you know, post multiple entries about struggling to find something to write, but who really wants to read that every week? Maybe¬†you do. But you need to bring more friends to this place and put in a few orders for those mental menu items of mine. You show a little interest and I’ll show a little (brain)skin.

Those are a few of the many thoughts that plague my every finger-poke on the keyboard during these moments of creative flat-line. And I’m not sure that forcing myself to write would do anything more than fuel my internal peanut gallery’s derision of my attempt to keep this ability stretched and ready to run that literary marathon.

That’s the long way of me saying I have loads of respect not only for published authors, but for bloggers who write incessantly and in a manner conducive to increased traffic on their sites. My couch-rumpled hat is off to you. Now back to playing something sci-fi based and time-consuming.


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