The Binding Agreement

It's late, I've worked all day, yawning is infectious and writing is boring.  I want to be asleep sooooo bad right now.

It's an option, too.  I could very easily flip down this monitor, pack away the laptop, set an alarm, and promise myself I'll do tomorrow the things I promised myself I'd do today.  As opposed to your regular, garden-variety, back-out-and-you'll-pay-for-it contract, promises to myself are much easier to break.  In the courtroom of self-accountability where the judge, jury, and defendant are all the same person, crimes tend to go unpunished.  We give ourselves passes and second chances and the benefit of the doubt, excusing our iniquities by calling them unavoidable.

That's dumb.  Taking it easy on yourself is for pussies.

I'd much rather be unconscious right now but I made a freakin' commitment, so here's my shitty little posting for the night.   Sure a more rested me might have come up with a more interesting read by the morning, but this tiny, greed turd of a blog is better.  It's less ideal than perfect, more real than a promise. Whatever I'd have written tomorrow would still be too late to matter.

And when all else fails: brevity, brevity, brevity.

Day 34.  TFR.  SYT.

The Needy

It's become a nightly ritual, choosing the topic of the day.  I recall the events of hours past, feel for what has left an impression, and rack my brain to figure out what's weighing most on my mind.  Eventually I always find it, that thing that needs further resolution, and so I hash out my feelings with words.  The end result is usually a sense of closure and clarity that allows me to lay my burdens to rest, for now, for a while, for as long as my burdens sleep.

Often times, it doesn't come so easily though.  Sometimes the words won't come willingly.  I end up pushing, struggling, and dragging my muse to the keyboard by the tits screaming, "Come on sweetie, it's time to pour your heart out again." She kicks sometimes, she bites, she goes limp in my arms but I insist, and eventually my muse always gives in, spilling her blood all over the internet.

(If my writing process seems more masochistic than therapeutic, that's because sometimes it is.)

There are days when a journal/diary/daily reflection does the body good.  These are the days when your body is so overwhelmed with emotion that the only path to survival is to step outside yourself.  Your feelings and your reason must divorce from one another so that your intellect can offer comforting explanations to help you cope.  There are other days though, those beautiful days of no real consequence and zero heavy drama, when over-analysing can seriously mess with your state of calm.

Tonight I thought about discussing my struggles with long-distance friendships, the imperfections of communication, and the murky bog-lands we must all traverse between dependency and self-suffieciency, but I the end I thought, Do I have to?  Maybe today was no big deal.  Maybe today was fine.  Maybe there was less to worry about than I thought, and maybe I've been over-thinking.  Perhaps when nothing in particular is on my mind it's because nothing in particular needs to be and to dwell on nothing is to consciously will an unnecessary problem into existence.  The mere consideration of a need can beget the creation of one, making the most considerate the most needy.

Then again, is it better to live needlessly?  Those who need nothing tend to get nothing, though they are spared the pain that comes with needing and not having.  I guess it all depends on what you want and how much you can take.

That last sentence can be interpreted a couple of ways, can't it?

Day 33.  TFR.  SYT.

The Opinion in My Headache

Scientist aren't actually sure what sleep is for.  They theorize and they speculate, but nobody knows for certain.  Their best guess is that in our unconscious states our bodies recuperate, bouncing back from the stresses of the day, healing and growing all through the night.  It's not a bad theory; in fact, it's kind of comforting.  Maybe biology has programmed good judgment right into the very fabric of our DNA where we are forced by nature to take the time to heal, six to eight hours of every day, one-quarter to one-third of every single life.

I love that time; I look forward to sleep.  Exhausted from the day I fall into my bed, wrap myself in sheets, and give in to the sweet sensation of eyelids over eyeballs, thirsty for healing.  I think it would be lovely if people were awake while they slept.  Healing seems like one of those things it'd be nice to be conscious for.  It seems kind of cruel and unfair that people have to be awake for all the damage and passed out for all the repair.  With a one-sided view like that, it's easy to see why so many people get so jaded.

I've been sad for such a long time that my sadness makes me angry.  These gloomy phases far out-number the sunny ones and all that makes me even sadder in its recollection.  It makes me forget my own luck.

I think about all the things I should be counting my blessings for in retrospect, good people, good weather, good education, the fact that I'm still breathing and have never gone hungry, and it makes me wonder how I could ever be so miserable.  There's so much to be grateful for but I forget some days.  My brain works too slowly and my mouth too quickly.  I fail to properly process and understand so I end up frustrated and confused.  Something small won't go the way I thought it should have gone and all of the sudden synapses fire simultaneously, hormone levels jump-rope in my veins, and gratitude falls to pieces like I'm no longer fortunate and the world is worthy of my wrath.  There's a reason the sages advocate "sleeping on it" before acting out of rage or revenge.  Anger does very little in the realm of healing, tending only to make wounds worse.

I'm sorry if I've done any shit-talking or judging in this blog.  There's no excuse for it.  The goal should be to understand, not gripe.  There's some stuff I could take issue with right now but I don't think I'll bother.  I'd rather close my eyes and wake-up feeling refreshed tomorrow, burdens buried in pillowcases, mysteriously rejuvenated by the night.

There's no need to have an opinion right now.

Day 32.  TFR. SYT.

The Schedule

I've been teetering these last few days, half writing blogs, barely exercising if I exercised at all, and frantically scrambling to keep everything from falling apart.  It's safe to say I've been weak at least as often as I've been strong, but I'm still showing up, for better or worse.

In self-critique, it's important to try to remain as objective and balanced as humanly possible.  It's difficult to do with all the hundreds of emotions the average person goes through in a single day, but when you want to say, "YOU'RE A LAZY SACK OF SHIT WHO CAN'T STICK TO ANYTHING AND THIS IS YOU QUITTING!  YOU'RE QUITTING!  YOU'RE QUITTING, JUST LIKE YOU'VE ALWAYS DONE," it's better to say, "Breathe."  The temptation is to be brutally hard on yourself, but no one is at 100%, 100% of the time.  What we are though, every second of every day, is usually our best.  Not our best of all time, not the pinnicle of our potential, but simple our best.  Even when we come up short, even when we wallow a little, everyone's different and everyone's the same, doing the very best they can to get through the day to day.  Some days that means it's rough, or sad, or lazy and it feels like failing, but thankfully, we're still breathing.  Even on our worst days, despite the good advice "live for today" mentality, never underestimate the power of tomorrow.

I was all over the place this weekend, working really hard at some things, being really lazy at others, and all in all I fell behind.  The last two days have been equal parts catch-up and dick-around but with the conclusion of this posting I find myself very close to right on track.  Progress throws a curveball every now and then, but we usually arrive at places precisely when we are supposed to, even if that means we had to strike out for a while.  There's no map we have to follow, no compass that points directly north, all we have is an idea of who we want to be to hold to through all the stormy winds of change.  And we do hold on; we have to hold on for dear life.

I have the entire day to myself tomorrow with no work or zero inking to slack-off.  I plan to treat myself to at least four work-outs before the end of the day and little tasks to fill the space between.  I think I'll clean my room, or maybe I'll take the dogs for a walk, or maybe I'll run some errands.  Tasks to do, for sure, but for the first time in a long time tomorrow doesn't feel like a list of obligations that have to get done.  Today, tomorrow feels like something to look forward to. Today, I feel very privileged to live for tomorrow.

Day 31.  TFR.  SYT.