Thanks to all my friends...
...especially those that posted heartfelt advice and reassurances in my previous entries. Not sure if this is the other side of the storm, or just the eye, but for the moment the walls are holding, and, after all, I think that's all we can ever claim, no matter how well we think we're doing.
Finished two Steven King novels, since I last posted, which should give you some idea of how productive I've been, overall. Wrote some music. Started a story. Taking lots and lots of vitamins and herbal supplements, so that I at least feel like I have the physical resources to deal with shit, and my overtired mind doesn't have to try to take up the slack for my body. Can't seem to stop sleeping until afternoon, even though there's nothing that should be making me this tired. There just isn't anyone around to tell me not to, anything to wake me up and make me pay attention, so I don't. I wish I would. I wish I knew how to be motivated by duty or desire, but really, on the most fundamental, unconscious level, I don't think I understand any language except necessity. I wish I could at least stop feeling guilty about it.
On that general subject, I have realized an unfortunate fact about myself, which other people are starting to notice (read: Janice, my father, etc.) and it's making them nervous. The fact is: I don't actually want a job. At all. Seven or eight thousand dollars should be in the mail to me, right now (cashed out my OfficeMax 401(k)), and I can't honestly say I have any plan except to stretch that as far as it will go and see what I have to do, at that point. This is far from the best plan, in any practical sense, but it's the only one I can stomach. There was a posting for a tech-support position that would start out at $10.00 or $11.00/hour that was asking for people with call center experience (which I just so happen to have nine years of), but I didn't apply for it. I let Janice cut out the listing and tape it up by the computer, where it still is, as I'm typing this, but I haven't and probably won't go to the website.
The reason why is simple: I don't fucking want that job. I realize that this is both impractical and selfish, but...and this is the real confession...I don't care. At some point, you just have to
put up your AT Field
and say "that's as close as you get, inside this barrier is ME." Maybe if anything at all good is going to come out of this, it will be that I learn to stop blaming other people when I make decisions that make me miserable, which should in turn help me to actually stop making them. I know in my heart that if I took that job, I would be ready to burn the place down within about two weeks. Thinking about office jobs actually makes my lips curl back in a snarl, these days. I am still ready, on a spinal, animal level, to HOSE some motherfuckers. I reached a peak of rage and disgust, following my termination, that I can't simply wish away. I am still mentally more prepared for starvation than subjugation, and you can take that to the bank.
Of course, at some point, I've got to rejoin the real world, but I still can't think of anything that's so great about that that I should be rushing the process.
Finished two Steven King novels, since I last posted, which should give you some idea of how productive I've been, overall. Wrote some music. Started a story. Taking lots and lots of vitamins and herbal supplements, so that I at least feel like I have the physical resources to deal with shit, and my overtired mind doesn't have to try to take up the slack for my body. Can't seem to stop sleeping until afternoon, even though there's nothing that should be making me this tired. There just isn't anyone around to tell me not to, anything to wake me up and make me pay attention, so I don't. I wish I would. I wish I knew how to be motivated by duty or desire, but really, on the most fundamental, unconscious level, I don't think I understand any language except necessity. I wish I could at least stop feeling guilty about it.
On that general subject, I have realized an unfortunate fact about myself, which other people are starting to notice (read: Janice, my father, etc.) and it's making them nervous. The fact is: I don't actually want a job. At all. Seven or eight thousand dollars should be in the mail to me, right now (cashed out my OfficeMax 401(k)), and I can't honestly say I have any plan except to stretch that as far as it will go and see what I have to do, at that point. This is far from the best plan, in any practical sense, but it's the only one I can stomach. There was a posting for a tech-support position that would start out at $10.00 or $11.00/hour that was asking for people with call center experience (which I just so happen to have nine years of), but I didn't apply for it. I let Janice cut out the listing and tape it up by the computer, where it still is, as I'm typing this, but I haven't and probably won't go to the website.
The reason why is simple: I don't fucking want that job. I realize that this is both impractical and selfish, but...and this is the real confession...I don't care. At some point, you just have to
put up your AT Field
and say "that's as close as you get, inside this barrier is ME." Maybe if anything at all good is going to come out of this, it will be that I learn to stop blaming other people when I make decisions that make me miserable, which should in turn help me to actually stop making them. I know in my heart that if I took that job, I would be ready to burn the place down within about two weeks. Thinking about office jobs actually makes my lips curl back in a snarl, these days. I am still ready, on a spinal, animal level, to HOSE some motherfuckers. I reached a peak of rage and disgust, following my termination, that I can't simply wish away. I am still mentally more prepared for starvation than subjugation, and you can take that to the bank.
Of course, at some point, I've got to rejoin the real world, but I still can't think of anything that's so great about that that I should be rushing the process.