[751] Singin' In The Rain

I think I need to take a moment, after I've scribbled down an arbitrary list of notes about things I want to do or eventually buy, before I start my next random foreign film that Trakt tells me is part of some popular list, and as I stave off a weird sickness in my stomach, as well as thoughts of the work I'm blowing off because I can't be bothered. It wasn't now, but earlier today, it struck me. I really do want, more than anything, to be doing “nothing” with my time.

When I put down the presumed dollar amounts of the things I want to accomplish, on the high end I got around 8 months of “regular” work with fairly strict budgeting. This includes everything from fixing the moving van to spending way too much to play with 3D-printing materials. If I scale things back to just getting my “basic bitch” living situation figured out, shortly after I'm done with training, I should be in a pretty good spot. As I list one thing after another that I need to learn or budget for, as the mess of “random” things compiles in crooked lists on ill-suited paper, it's having the time to get lost in all of that which I cherish.

I've only been able to do so lately because I'm leaving my job and people have been canceling on me like crazy. This morning I went and mowed and weed whacked my lawn. I got home and bought a crock pot and went out to eat. I've sat and finished my shows. I've gotten lost in the dream of things to come and played again into the kind of arbitrary nature of what my general day was before I went corporate. To be sure, either extreme is bad. I recognized my need for structure in attempting #yearofeveryday. I recognize the danger of the narrative about being a lost overgrown man-child and have something of a reputation to uphold. But at bottom, I like having all the time in the world to do whatever the hell that I want with it first.

I don't regret watching movies and shows. I don't regret the books I read. I don't have lingering pains and sorrows from digesting the endless stream of depressing news. That's where I find direction. That's where I find voices to emulate. That's where I find the kind of stimulation and motivation to try my own shittier version of things. My mind has let go of the death grip “work responsibilities” has on me, and I felt a little at home. I returned to the organized chaos from which I always want to burst forth.

Basically, I know what I need to return to. I know I can't get too comfortable. I know there are definite perks to “just” doing your job and paying the bills and settling in, but that's not who I am, and I'm going to keep fighting its comforts. I'm going to keep bitching where bitching is due. I'm going to find ways to exhaust myself doing what it is I actually want to be doing. I know you've fallen asleep on me, but I won't.