Almost there.
March. Month 8 of homelessness. I thought 6 was going to be the landmark... now I'm not far from 12.
I have pulled out of most the business operations and projects. My friends (colleagues?) have been really supportive and haven't given me a hard time at all. I know they are a bit bored of the "I think I'll finish my thesis really soon" line. But actually, I think I'll get it done soon.
Now that I have pulled out I have regained a focus I forgot I ever had. Unfortunately, I've had to pretty much pull out of living as well. I have just one purpose now and I have to stick to it resolutely. But I'm feeling quite confident about the thesis, and when I submit this version it will be a minor victory rather than admitting defeat. There are still lots of loose ends. The little bits take so much time and concentration. Preambles linking previous sections, hypotheses referenced in conclusions, a legend to place, an incorrect caption on page 136, etc. My brain is full. My mind is vacant.
I wonder if I should have pulled out of the business stuff sooner? It might have meant I got things done sooner, but it might have taken the same amount of time; I would have been out of the loop longer, and it would be harder to excuse myself to my colleagues. Really I don't need to excuse myself. But who knows? Ultimately, my choices were made out of survival, I think. All my efforts are investments, they are all gambles. It is like a game of chess, always a few moves ahead. Hindsight is hardly fair.
I have no money (less than), so I am now in a tangled web of dependency. Tit-for-tat. Nothing serious, no loan sharks. But an investment of my time here for a dinner there, a favour for this person for a nude modelling job later. I got the contract for the new Uni job but I postponed my start. Assertive, good. I have the first meeting at the end of the month - so I really do need to wrap things up. I won't see any money until the end of April. I could take donations. I might take donations. But I've seen things through this far, so lets see if I can make it through intact. My friends aren't going anywhere.
I completely crashed psychologically for a period of two weeks. In my written journal I called it the Misery. It was so tangible, a wave of oppressive unhappiness that I could feel approaching and then over taking me. In fact, when ever I had time to myself was when it was at its worse. I think I've experienced something that can not be communicated.
I wrote some terrible things. I wrote a letter in that period that had me in absolute tears. I was at work, I had to write a bit and then distract myself with graphs, and then write a bit more. I knew I was squeezing puss from a wound so once I started I couldn't stop. It felt like a personal exorcism. Not a malicious letter, just terribly tragic and exposed. I decided not to send it, and shortly after I came out the other side.
Later I wrote in the journal that I lost my attitude and became all expression. Expression consumed me and I was directionless. It was a precarious place to be, where the only state of mind is emotions and they drag you right down. It could be a great place to be, if it was positive. A strange experience. Emotions that no words can ever describe. Not at all suicidal. Just oppressive, heavy, burdened, wretched and broken. Misery.
I hope it is behind me. I'm actually nervous about it now, like the Misery is some kind of lurking monster. I've had something similar before where I just want things to be over, and I've seen this in others (especially in the start up business). But this was the dungeon, a dark place with no windows. A pit trap underfoot. But I just had to follow the walls to find the way out. Exorcism.
So now I am feeling in a position where it is all about decisions and taking control. No doubts, no anxieties. No pleasing others, no obligations. I have turned myself inside-out along the way and re-entered myself through my arsehole. I tried to do a bit of everything and keep my fingers in all the pies. It was a good strategy, it got me this far. But I don't benefit anyone like that anymore, least of all myself. Things are about to turn around, I can finally afford myself.
I may have maintained my complete resolution of honesty in communication, but when I appeared to people in the fractured pieces of my lifestyle, I was the most deceptive I have ever been. Tiny slices of Paul, when really he was away drowning in an ocean expanse just over the hill. Of course I was confusing. How can you communicate the ocean to someone who has never seen it? Spoken honesty was useless.
It is a shame that things get complicated. Written and spoken word really are the least effective modes of communication. I've heard academics say it has the highest information density - but this just isn't true. We simply can't measure the entropy of body language and sensualities. Even if spoken and written word is information rich, it isn't necessarily received intact. Humans, like everything else on this planet, are sensual creatures.
I thought I had rejected stoicism [hmm, not classical, but absolute] in my late teens when I came out of my Buddha phase. But really I had only rejected a very personal stoicism. I had accepted sexuality and expression, become very liberal in thought. But I think without realising it I have continued to be stoic in my actions, my body, my use of time. I am perceived as rigid, restrained, confusing and contradictory. Not for my words, but my for my tension. I lost myself in the Misery, but I found something else. I'm not sure if this makes any sense at all to anyone but me. I've got a lot of recovery to do when this is over.
Anyway. On this trajectory, Antonin Artaud is next up to be assimilated.
I have pulled out of most the business operations and projects. My friends (colleagues?) have been really supportive and haven't given me a hard time at all. I know they are a bit bored of the "I think I'll finish my thesis really soon" line. But actually, I think I'll get it done soon.
Now that I have pulled out I have regained a focus I forgot I ever had. Unfortunately, I've had to pretty much pull out of living as well. I have just one purpose now and I have to stick to it resolutely. But I'm feeling quite confident about the thesis, and when I submit this version it will be a minor victory rather than admitting defeat. There are still lots of loose ends. The little bits take so much time and concentration. Preambles linking previous sections, hypotheses referenced in conclusions, a legend to place, an incorrect caption on page 136, etc. My brain is full. My mind is vacant.
I wonder if I should have pulled out of the business stuff sooner? It might have meant I got things done sooner, but it might have taken the same amount of time; I would have been out of the loop longer, and it would be harder to excuse myself to my colleagues. Really I don't need to excuse myself. But who knows? Ultimately, my choices were made out of survival, I think. All my efforts are investments, they are all gambles. It is like a game of chess, always a few moves ahead. Hindsight is hardly fair.
I have no money (less than), so I am now in a tangled web of dependency. Tit-for-tat. Nothing serious, no loan sharks. But an investment of my time here for a dinner there, a favour for this person for a nude modelling job later. I got the contract for the new Uni job but I postponed my start. Assertive, good. I have the first meeting at the end of the month - so I really do need to wrap things up. I won't see any money until the end of April. I could take donations. I might take donations. But I've seen things through this far, so lets see if I can make it through intact. My friends aren't going anywhere.
I completely crashed psychologically for a period of two weeks. In my written journal I called it the Misery. It was so tangible, a wave of oppressive unhappiness that I could feel approaching and then over taking me. In fact, when ever I had time to myself was when it was at its worse. I think I've experienced something that can not be communicated.
I wrote some terrible things. I wrote a letter in that period that had me in absolute tears. I was at work, I had to write a bit and then distract myself with graphs, and then write a bit more. I knew I was squeezing puss from a wound so once I started I couldn't stop. It felt like a personal exorcism. Not a malicious letter, just terribly tragic and exposed. I decided not to send it, and shortly after I came out the other side.
Later I wrote in the journal that I lost my attitude and became all expression. Expression consumed me and I was directionless. It was a precarious place to be, where the only state of mind is emotions and they drag you right down. It could be a great place to be, if it was positive. A strange experience. Emotions that no words can ever describe. Not at all suicidal. Just oppressive, heavy, burdened, wretched and broken. Misery.
I hope it is behind me. I'm actually nervous about it now, like the Misery is some kind of lurking monster. I've had something similar before where I just want things to be over, and I've seen this in others (especially in the start up business). But this was the dungeon, a dark place with no windows. A pit trap underfoot. But I just had to follow the walls to find the way out. Exorcism.
So now I am feeling in a position where it is all about decisions and taking control. No doubts, no anxieties. No pleasing others, no obligations. I have turned myself inside-out along the way and re-entered myself through my arsehole. I tried to do a bit of everything and keep my fingers in all the pies. It was a good strategy, it got me this far. But I don't benefit anyone like that anymore, least of all myself. Things are about to turn around, I can finally afford myself.
I may have maintained my complete resolution of honesty in communication, but when I appeared to people in the fractured pieces of my lifestyle, I was the most deceptive I have ever been. Tiny slices of Paul, when really he was away drowning in an ocean expanse just over the hill. Of course I was confusing. How can you communicate the ocean to someone who has never seen it? Spoken honesty was useless.
It is a shame that things get complicated. Written and spoken word really are the least effective modes of communication. I've heard academics say it has the highest information density - but this just isn't true. We simply can't measure the entropy of body language and sensualities. Even if spoken and written word is information rich, it isn't necessarily received intact. Humans, like everything else on this planet, are sensual creatures.
I thought I had rejected stoicism [hmm, not classical, but absolute] in my late teens when I came out of my Buddha phase. But really I had only rejected a very personal stoicism. I had accepted sexuality and expression, become very liberal in thought. But I think without realising it I have continued to be stoic in my actions, my body, my use of time. I am perceived as rigid, restrained, confusing and contradictory. Not for my words, but my for my tension. I lost myself in the Misery, but I found something else. I'm not sure if this makes any sense at all to anyone but me. I've got a lot of recovery to do when this is over.
Anyway. On this trajectory, Antonin Artaud is next up to be assimilated.