Nothing Doing

I can feel the slump coming on again. This time I am particularly aware of it being a direct consequence of the actions – mostly inactions, to be precise – that preceded it. “No, I won’t do this” “no not doing that either” “ugh seriously why would you even think I’d do that do you even know me”, followed by “dear GOD I’m so fucking bored”, and, now, this. Dissatisfaction in all aspects of life. Not depression or sadness or anger, just … disappointment. Could be better. Kinda annoyed it isn’t.

But rather than write about what a slump I’m in, I figure I’ll list a bunch of things that I’ve done recently instead. Not a list of Accomplishments, just things I did. Because I did do them. And it’s so easy to write off most of what we do as something that “doesn’t count”, for the most absurdly ill-reasoned … reasons.

Yes. Anyway.

  • Wrote notes for story ideas
  • Finished God Stalk by P.C. Hodgell (well worth the read; I’m very glad I forced myself to finally do it after swearing off ever reading high fantasy again and owning the damn thing for 2 years)
  • Did a workout after, what 3 months?
  • Proved to myself that, actually, I don’t have to eat when I’m bored, impatient, dissatisfied, upset, lonely, etc., and can actually regulate my goddamn intake – and that it’s almost silly how easy it was. Quite the revelation, hoping to keep it up
  • Played Bayonetta for the first time, which is seriously OTT and just very fun to play
  • Listened to music for hours on end and got sick of most of it (though that’s been going on for a while now)
  • Turned off the music (just now) (huh that feels a lot better)
  • Watched YouTube videos
  • Wrote notes for story ideas

And before I go to bed I’ll probably make myself nudge forward my word-count for the new Tallulah opening chapter. I came to the conclusion today that I still don’t know what the hell I’m going to do with it, and was rather put out by it. Then just now I remembered that that was part of the reason I was happy to be writing it from scratch – not just because I can make new things happen, but because nothing has to happen anymore.

There’s two widely-circulated methods of writing that get all the attention: there’s writing stream-of-consciousness (pantsing), and there’s writing from a plan (planning). I got sucked into the idea that I had to pick one and specialise in it, because surely if I got good at doing it then I’d finally have an autopilot mode of writing that would steer me through every obstacle and writer’s block I ever came up against, and wouldn’t confuse myself. That last one especially; I have a history of working myself into a panic over doing something a certain way because I might confuse myself.

What the actual fuck.

How does that even fucking occur to a person? How can you confuse yourself by doing something wrong? Surely you just go “hey this isn’t working” and do something else? Where did this worry come from? I mean probably from feeling inadequate and unable to compare to my best friend as a teenager and therefore second-guessing everything I ever thought was a good idea in order to keep from feeling embarrassed for even existing, let alone daring to have ideas that might be different from what he thought was good, but apart from that?

But wherever it came from, after what feels like a lifetime of it it’s finally starting to lose its hold on me, and that’s pretty dope. I can sit down, write a few paragraphs on a blog and suddenly not give a damn. How absurdly, beautifully simple. I can write this new chapter in an hour; I can write it in a decade. It does not fucking matter. I want to write it quite a lot quicker than in a decade, but that’s fine too. It’s just what I want. I want other things as well. I want to go volunteer at a counseling hotline for instance, and look into perhaps getting back into psychology as a career/study option. I want to finally get through my various anxieties and insecurities to the point where I can start looking for jobs without having the closest thing to a panic attack I’ve ever had.

I want to fiddle around with making YouTube videos; hell, just videos. They don’t even have to go up online. I want to make good on my ambition to play guitar for 10 minutes a day at least 3 days a week, and to make myself draw something at least that often as well. I want this to be the year where I finally get responsible about what I eat and when – and why.

And that’s all great. I want. I want a lot. I would work great as a Disney princess. Hell, I’d work great as several Disney princesses.

Hmm, there’s another idea …

I have lived by the habit of telling myself that I’m “doing nothing” when, really, I’m just not doing that. Whatever that happens to be at the time. And what a goddamn waste it’s all been, all that scolding and berating – for what? Nothing. It didn’t get done even when I accused myself of not doing it, so in the end it just made things worse. I think right now is not the time to just say “well I didn’t do anything today and that’s all right”; right now is the time to acknowledge that everything I do is a thing that I have, in fact, done. That what I “do” doesn’t have to be particularly significant for it to count. To run myself out of excuses for feeling like I live an empty life. It’s not empty. It’s not a matter of degree. It’s just my life.

And it can be anything I want it to be.

I have a history of not being really great at keeping this writing blog on-topic.

But I also don’t care. Because it doesn’t matter.

I still want this writing blog to be about writing and nothing else, and that’s fine. It’s just what I want.

I also want to put a few words in before I hit the sack, so I think I’ll go do that.

And then tomorrow, maybe I’ll write more. Or write something else. Or not write at all. I don’t know.

want to write more.

The road goes ever on and on …

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