I fantasise/ I call it quits/ I swim with the economists
There's spreading yourself thin, then there's this.
I appear to be trying to pick up a side job as a coach, climbing regularly to excessively (I've been to my wall for the majority of days of the month and a half it's been open), trying to get my head around economics as my main and stressful job helping a party in this political turmoil and maybe develop there as I also try to spend a day a week volunteering at a hospital (not yet got said position), applying for medicine, reading, and it feels like I'm sort of half-arsing it all.
I've got to take 8 days leave by the end of the year, as politics is the inanest I've seen it ad things keep going and going. They've just started again, and won't stop till Christmas. We're run by a Government that's committing country-level suicide, or self-harm at the very least.
(Oh yeah, I'm supposedly trying to find a therapist to restart that, and seem to be in a regularish D&D thing, on top of all that. And, naturally, am reading good books. And have become an uncle thrice over in the last 2.5 years, which gives more duty.)
Obviously, procrastination can solve all problems, but I'm not sure that's the wise choice here. I'm tired, I'm so, so tired.
Jenny's visiting. A day earlier than I thought, because, well, I have ADHD, and that's how things work, apparently. I don't know if I'm leading her on. I'm not sure what I'm doing. But I've got great vocabulary, a bit of charm and some absurd bank of general knowledge, the growth of which I seem to pursue over the things I should.
I have the weekend to apply for uni. Which, er, includes working out if I'm going to apply to do another OU module I apparently need to, as the one I'm on (which cost £500) doesn't count, because I didn't read things enough. I am ... some leagues away from organisation. Or a peer group.
I have many friends. I have colleagues I get on well with. I have a number of best friends from lives past I keep in touch with intermittently, many people I climb with most days, but can't guarantee I won't go weeks without seeing.
I mean, I'm aware that this is what thirties is, but this feels absurd right now. And this is, I'll admit, a huge tangent from how I feel about a relationship I'm in. (I don't think I'm poly. I don't know if it works for me. It's not something I think I want long-term. Long-term seems very hard, in a world where we have governments that have literally been admitting they can't guarantee anything about six months time -- where and how we'll be allowed to travel, who will be able to live here. On the plus side, I'm not starting a dictatorship down, like some friends in Brazil are. You see what I mean about tangents?)
I'm tired. I'm so, so tired. My room never gets dark. I've been taking stimulants for about two decades. I work in politics. It adds up on you.
---
Last week I was at a wedding of a good friend who lives 15 minutes walk away, and I never see, in a place full of ghosts of more than a decade past, and a more recent ex. (Nine days ago, I marked a decade since I moved to London.) It was in Manchester, in a museum to past industry, which could be too on the nose, I suppose. Naturally, I booked hotel and travel three days before hand.
I felt, as I often do, on the edge, like I couldn't quite fit in, fully commit or go for it.
I didn't know if the ex was avoiding me or not. I didn't know how I feel, when I know so many people who've been the world to me have moved on. (I don't know how many of my friends from undergrad are in the position of not having had a relationship lasting over a year, and who don't own their house. Yes, that last clause is technically grammatically wrong, but seriously, can you fix it?)
Half-in and half-out of everything. "Borrowed nostalgia for unremembered noughties." A life endlessly liminal, flitting from things to things. A life lived as stream of consciousness.
Distraction or determination? Am I happy? Who knows.
I appear to be trying to pick up a side job as a coach, climbing regularly to excessively (I've been to my wall for the majority of days of the month and a half it's been open), trying to get my head around economics as my main and stressful job helping a party in this political turmoil and maybe develop there as I also try to spend a day a week volunteering at a hospital (not yet got said position), applying for medicine, reading, and it feels like I'm sort of half-arsing it all.
I've got to take 8 days leave by the end of the year, as politics is the inanest I've seen it ad things keep going and going. They've just started again, and won't stop till Christmas. We're run by a Government that's committing country-level suicide, or self-harm at the very least.
(Oh yeah, I'm supposedly trying to find a therapist to restart that, and seem to be in a regularish D&D thing, on top of all that. And, naturally, am reading good books. And have become an uncle thrice over in the last 2.5 years, which gives more duty.)
Obviously, procrastination can solve all problems, but I'm not sure that's the wise choice here. I'm tired, I'm so, so tired.
Jenny's visiting. A day earlier than I thought, because, well, I have ADHD, and that's how things work, apparently. I don't know if I'm leading her on. I'm not sure what I'm doing. But I've got great vocabulary, a bit of charm and some absurd bank of general knowledge, the growth of which I seem to pursue over the things I should.
I have the weekend to apply for uni. Which, er, includes working out if I'm going to apply to do another OU module I apparently need to, as the one I'm on (which cost £500) doesn't count, because I didn't read things enough. I am ... some leagues away from organisation. Or a peer group.
I have many friends. I have colleagues I get on well with. I have a number of best friends from lives past I keep in touch with intermittently, many people I climb with most days, but can't guarantee I won't go weeks without seeing.
I mean, I'm aware that this is what thirties is, but this feels absurd right now. And this is, I'll admit, a huge tangent from how I feel about a relationship I'm in. (I don't think I'm poly. I don't know if it works for me. It's not something I think I want long-term. Long-term seems very hard, in a world where we have governments that have literally been admitting they can't guarantee anything about six months time -- where and how we'll be allowed to travel, who will be able to live here. On the plus side, I'm not starting a dictatorship down, like some friends in Brazil are. You see what I mean about tangents?)
I'm tired. I'm so, so tired. My room never gets dark. I've been taking stimulants for about two decades. I work in politics. It adds up on you.
---
Last week I was at a wedding of a good friend who lives 15 minutes walk away, and I never see, in a place full of ghosts of more than a decade past, and a more recent ex. (Nine days ago, I marked a decade since I moved to London.) It was in Manchester, in a museum to past industry, which could be too on the nose, I suppose. Naturally, I booked hotel and travel three days before hand.
I felt, as I often do, on the edge, like I couldn't quite fit in, fully commit or go for it.
I didn't know if the ex was avoiding me or not. I didn't know how I feel, when I know so many people who've been the world to me have moved on. (I don't know how many of my friends from undergrad are in the position of not having had a relationship lasting over a year, and who don't own their house. Yes, that last clause is technically grammatically wrong, but seriously, can you fix it?)
Half-in and half-out of everything. "Borrowed nostalgia for unremembered noughties." A life endlessly liminal, flitting from things to things. A life lived as stream of consciousness.
Distraction or determination? Am I happy? Who knows.