[1263] Much Too Much

“There’s just so much going on.”

This is one of the most common refrains I hear from clients and friends alike. Friends are either working, navigating children, or in a worst case dealing with something health related. “The world” is often invoked along with the idea and all of its “stupid people.” Whether we simply call it “stress” or a sense of being “overwhelmed,” the sentiment is such that, whatever the ask, task, or invitation, it’s “too much.” If they’re feeling vaguely hopeful it’s “one day.”

 

They’re not wrong, in the broadest sense. In American society, at least, what might have been “simple” or “normal” aspects of a life worth living have turned into privileges and class-warfare. The things I get to do are a direct result of the sacrifices of things my parents could take for granted. The fun things I do or buy always feel like indulgence. They always feel like “I don’t really need,” because I’m playing an emotional hedging game. Will I regret the T-shirt or burger more than take solace in my ability to afford them, if only barely or occasionally?

 

I don’t feel old, but I had a good long moment while I was driving home yesterday where the idea of “38” seemed like an incredibly long time to have been around. “Pushing 40,” as they say. I’ve never wanted kids, but if I started tomorrow, I’d be 10 years older than my dad when we started. I’ve, still, never had a job for longer than 2 and a half years. I own plenty of shit, and I’ve got extremely hard in the “experiences” lane of affordable shows and trips.

 

This morning has felt like “a lot.” I was tired enough on the way home yesterday I pulled into a parking lot to nap. I got home and went to sleep, waking up at 2, and now feeling…well, that’s why I’m writing. There’s things I wish to accomplish. There’s things I’m extremely annoyed have been forced upon me to combat. There’s things akin to chores I’ll try to do later. My contacts are acting up. I’m itchy. My mouth and throat are dry. I want to sleep more, but I’m not convinced it would happen.

 

What’s on my plate?

 

I got pulled over for a broken headlight, and it turned into a, likely, illegal search. It’s been expensive and stressful figuring out how to request all the records related to the stop. I’m getting bounced around departments, inane pushback, and seemingly no matter what combination of words I use or attempts I make does it lock in that I want all records that pertain to me, the officers, the dog, and the stop. I spent 10 weeks not getting paid by the state of Indiana, just long enough for this to happen while my insurance had lapsed, and now I’m having to spend hundreds more, on top of a ticket, to combat an abuse of power, technically, from the same entity that delayed me getting my insurance paid.

I also got an alleged traffic infringement from a camera on the highway. Per A.I., their own filings contradict their claims, so I’m also operating pro se and trying to piece together what I need to push against this surveillance state bullshit and machine claims that will eventually track and tax us into ever further forms of internally punishing psychosis.

 

I’m still working on civic-mirror.com. I have the Claude Max now that lets me work like I needed to work to get it where it is, but it’s a huge undertaking, and I’m feeling increasingly isolated and sensing overwhelm when I try to pick a lane to focus on developing. I wanted to use my experience requesting these records to build a “spine” for others to follow when they wanted to do the same. That’s going to involve parsing something like 45 emails, clarifications, and redirections so I can develop steps 1 and 2. That’s 2 police departments in 1 county in 1 miserable state on one, tangible, practical issue.

 

I’ve reached out to online-form systems for attorneys. No surprise, they didn’t respond in the time window they said they would. I got a call back from a pro-bono office who doesn’t handle my kind of case, but, of course while driving, managed to find a charismatic 70-something lawyer who functionally hi-jacked the call to talk about an array of things she wished to share about her life. It’s the mental labor of trying to find and then navigating the pieces of a puzzle destined for a messy or unclear picture that feels heavy.

 

I have some form digitizing to get done, some spreadsheet re-organizing, and perhaps a single individual session with a client. I need to put away laundry and buy toilet paper. I’m not seriously obligated to do any of it but for what I claim about my values and identity. When I’m not tired, aggravated by my eye, needing to shit, and digging out the useless anxiety of my alleged obligations, I’m exceptionally capable, motivated, angry, and excited about the prospect of pursuing my goals until their failure point. When it’s hard to feel that, I write.

 

It’ll be an hour or 2 before the offices I need to call will even be open.