The original plan, when starting up again, was to write every single day, first thing in the morning. Actually, it's still the plan; I have a book that I was given way back that suggests this is a good excercise for opening up the creative process. However, the reality is that, LIke Karl, I find myself working 16 hour days and dragging my sorry startled ass out of bed already half an hour late for the next day more often than I'd like to admit. As a side effect of this lifestyle, on the days that I actually DO have off, waking up at noon is a pretty common feature. Having breakfast around oneish. showering at two. gingerly pointing my zimmer frame over to the computer at 3.
reading Circe's posts is often an excercise in angst and guilt; as a human being, she strives more than single person I know, and I find that reading about her herculean efforts often casts a pall on my own, because at the end of the day I am a lazy fucker. I could be taking japanese lessons right this second. I could be in a gym on machines or climbing or sparring. I could be trying to build the neural net I've been talking about for the past 4 years, you know actually building it, not just mumbling about it to some girl I want to impress at a party. Fuck, I could be heading out to a party. Or volunteering.
Yet, despite what amounts to a mere 50 hours a week plus commutes and a tiny bit of appartment hunting, I feel completely strung out. a blasted shell. I once told a good friend that people are like springs; if you put them under some limited about of stress they adapt, and a restoring forces returns them to normal when the load is again removed. But increase that load beyond a certain point and you cross the "elastic limit", the point beyond which it becomes deformed and can never again return to being the way it was. I feel, most mornings, as though I passed my elastic limit about 8 years ago. Now I require sherpas to assist and a reward for completing such simple acts as taking out the garbage.
But this is a very commmon feeling. There's a book out there called "no time" by some woman who studies this kind of thing that I will eventually get around to reading and then writing about in here. And yes I am fully aware of the complex interplay of ironies in that last statement.
Fuck it all.
Let's test out the new Movable type linking system. here's a picture of Eva Herzigova in some slutty dress, apparently.
I was gonna tell you about leaves.
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You're dead on with the spring analogy; there are those pressure points that warp and change, and no, it never goes back.
The good thing is that it allows mutability, and growth. Because if we can't change, we wind up stuck in place. While there are moments in life I wish I could cut and loop forever, there are very few points in my life where I'd then say, done here, don't want to grow.
Oh, and three cheers irony.
(clicks on link)
You know, drunkenstepfather.com always disappoints me. It sounds so perfectly, completely wrong, in the hottest and dirtiest way possible. But it always winds up just being about celebrity gossip.
re: the link - yeah, I has an enjoyably sexy friend around when I did it and said to her "{hang on, check out this link I'm adding", and we did it and published and looked, and we were both dissapointed. I'm not giving up on the feaure though, the whole point of this first little while is the learning curve and trying out new shit while no one's around to see the hiccoughs.
re: the main point - yeah, I know. I agree that it's often a good thing, though in this instance what I was trying to get at was the point you cross when you become permanently less able to take on load - I think psychologists have a specific term for this and I'm gonna make a note to ask my shrink about it next time I see her, and then I'll look it up and get back.
There's also the connection between eustress and distress.
I'm a huge fan of growth and I'm a huge fan of major life changing events that lead to growth. I'm aware that some of what I'll be writing over the next few days won't entirely give that impression. yet. But I'm running with a theme here, and I've got a huge amount of death to get through before November's over, so fuck it, I'll just have to break a few eggs (and metephors and similies) as I go. I'll fix it all again in December.