Perhaps I ought to wait until the last day of the year to bash out some thoughts about the dozen months gone by, but knowing how well I’ve stuck to my writing plan lately I’d probably end up writing this in mid-January… or not at all, most likely. (Let’s not dwell upon how many things I meant to write about but never did, and now can’t because I’ve lost too many of the details. Ugh.)
Two thousand seven, the year that was… after the break. (more…)
Just because I have a place to write doesn’t mean that I have anything to say.
I wonder how much my lack of writing output is because my life isn’t terribly interesting. Not that it ever was, I suppose. Maybe I’ve just lost my enthusiasm for talking about myself. What’s to say? “More of the same, yep! Some parts of my life are good, some parts are bad, and I’m tired a lot!” I don’t want to be the broken record guy, you know?
I want to change things up, but the pressures of my life keep squeezing me into the same routine whether I like it or not. I’m not even getting the basics done, most of the time. (Let’s not talk about how long it’s been since I last shopped for groceries.) The good parts of my life are good, make no mistake. I’m not complaining about the core parts. My health is as good as ever, there isn’t any relationship drama to speak of, my kids are their usual outstanding selves, nothing has broken or burned lately.
And yet, I’m tired all of the time. I don’t make very good company nowadays because I tend to yawn, fade, or otherwise wind down once the clock ticks past 8pm. To get a “decent night’s sleep” I have to crawl into bed shortly after 9pm, and that’s still no guarantee. Nightmares and insomnia are regular visitors in my psyche.
All of the projects I say that I want to accomplish require me to get home with enough energy to want to do more than curl up and veg out. I’m not sure what I can do about this. One proposed solution is to move closer to my work… which takes me away from nearly everyone I care about, which means I’ll only see them on weekends, which means my weekends will be overbooked, which means I’ll start work Monday feeling like I haven’t rested at all and still won’t have put in nearly enough quality time with my loved ones.
Hmm, I think not.
The other solution is just as plausible: Change jobs. And the less said about that notion the better, here.
So. Much of my life is good, but my ability to enjoy what’s good is hampered by the parts of my life that aren’t so good. Fun, eh?
It’s been a while, hasn’t it?
Excuses I have. I’ve been sick for a week and a half, missing two days of work during that time. My job has become more tiring and tedious. My personal life is in a state of flux. I’m broke, in spite of landing a substantial bonus from work last week. (That’s that last of those I’ll be seeing any time soon, too.) The mornings and evenings are darker, in the “sun rises later and sets earlier” sense if not the metaphorical sense, so I’m engaging in my annual battle against the onset of seasonal depression.
I considered joining one of the “national something-or-other month” activities such as NaBloPoMo. (During a particularly manic phase a few days ago I decided that I was going to do BloPoMo with a theme, such as “30 days of musical artists” or “30 days, 30 anime” or some-such.) I even considered WriMo, which I have insisted for years that I’d never do again. I realized, however, that I’d end up even more depressed if I started something like that and then failed to complete it. Given my track record with unfinished projects lately it seemed the better part of valor to forgo that particular form of punishment.
So, this month I’m just going to sit back and participate in my own little event: National Do Whatever Month. You may get a couple of the music mixes I came up with. You may get a rambling about animation from that planned theme. You may get two weeks with no posting whatsoever… yeah, that would be new around here, wouldn’t it? At any rate, I have several unfinished posts that need fleshing out and tidying up, so it’s not like I don’t have anything to say. (Of special note is the upcoming photographic journey through the building of the Very Expensive Media Center Computer.)
If nothing else, I can at least take some comfort in the fact that October is over. Hooray.
I startled myself a few days ago with a simple realization. It’s not one that leaps readily to mind when I look back at my relationship history, considering the years during which I had no idea what I was doing as well as that ugly stretch of time when I wasn’t quite the model of a responsible partner. Perhaps, then, it’s not such a surprise that I didn’t think of this sooner…
I have been in one committed primary romantic relationship or another almost continuously since I was about 19 years old.
Let’s set aside just how committed I was at any given time; I don’t make a big secret of the fact that I didn’t do a very good job of it for the bulk of my marriage, so we don’t need to delve into that here. The important part is that I don’t know what it’s like to be a mature adult and not be in a primary partnership arrangement. Is this normal? Don’t most people go through on-and-off cycles or something like that? Maybe I’m just naïve but it seems like I’ve led a peculiar life in this specific regard.
What does all of this mean, then, given my current situation?
My first thought is that I should spend time being Just Me. Not that I was going to run out and dive straight into another big romantic entanglement anyway, but now I’m certain that taking a bit of a sabbatical before my next one is a Very Good Idea. I’ll grant you that certain aspects of my current life make that plan more palatable than it might be for most other people, but that’s one of the benefits of the path I chose and the person I’ve worked to become over the past half-dozen years or so.
Following up on that thought is that I’ve reinforced my belief that I need to spend some time taking stock of who I am, what I value and where my boundaries are. My relationship style has long relied on being reasonable when I can be; in the future I want to be certain that I don’t cross the line between “reasonable” and “doormat.” (Not, mind you, that I’m saying I’ve been a doormat up to this point. I’m talking about assessing the big picture, not pointing fingers or engaging in self-recrimination.)
On the flipside of that, I also need to get a firm grip on what sets off my anger, what kind of things I should get angry over and which (of course) I shouldn’t. Much of the problems and baggage I contribute to a relationship stem from my temper triggers, and I’d like to repeat as few of those mistakes in the future as possible. (The idea is to avoid repeating old mistakes so you have the time to make all new ones, after all!)
Of course, I also need to make certain that I don’t let inertia rule my future. You can imagine how easy it would be for me to go into full-on hermit mode. I don’t think I need to take after my father in that particular respect, do you? Besides, if I don’t (eventually) get out there and put all of this planning and introspection to good use, what’s the point?
Deep thoughts for a train ride home. I think I’ll do something light and fun when I get home. (Have I mentioned yet that my laptop is awesome, by the way?)
Most of the happiness we enjoy in life comes from wringing the best out of a less-than-ideal situation, because life hands out ideal situations very, very rarely.
If you go through life waiting for ideal situations in order to be happy, then you’re going to spend most of your life very, very unhappy.
Also keep in mind that happiness is an event, not a state of being.
(This has been a public service announcement from, and to, Yours Truly. To anyone else who gains benefit from it: You’re welcome.)
I spotted a bumper sticker the other day. It informed me that, “The death penalty is a hate crime.” Well now. Let’s think about that for a moment, purely from a semantic point of view.
The death penalty is the product of a process involving judges, lawyers and juries. The judge is supposedly impartial, the lawyers are in it either for principle or for money, and the jury is a bunch of people who have a collective blend of loves, hates and prejudices. Delivering a death sentence is a process constrained by a complex series of laws.
I wonder, then, where is the hate and where is the crime? We’re talking about a legal (read: “made of laws, therefore not a crime”) process that’s had most of the humanity squeezed out of it to begin with (so, there’s no more hate involved than any other emotion one could name).
Go ahead and disagree with the death penalty in principle if you see fit, but framing the argument in terms that don’t even make sense in the context isn’t going to help your cause. It just makes people like me shake our heads in bewilderment.
(Please note that I’m not looking for a debate on the merits of the death penalty itself. It’s the message’s phrasing itself that concerned me. Call me crazy if you must.)
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