For Once I’m not Writing for Money

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So, I found that if I keep the light low when I wake up, it feels like my sleep is better preserved upon waking. I don’t think that I want to do that, as I’m sitting here, tired as a dog. Are dogs excessively tired?

I have to go to the bank today. It’s getting bad, not as bad as it was before, with money everywhere except where I need it. I filed an extension on my taxes this year, but I’m going to have to handle that at some point.

Might as well dive right into the shallow water. I feel like things are going ok with the boy… I just can’t stop myself. From thinking that this counts as a serious relationship for him, but really, he’s just terrible at relationships generally. Has he even had one? I’m phasing him in slowly, but yesterday as we made plans for something coming up in November, I realized it will have been 2 years. My goodness, if it’s taken 2 years to get to the point where he’ll eat pussy unprovoked… do I really even want to go there?

Of course, I’ve been religiously hitting Hinge. Why the fuck not, all the men there suck anyway.

My academic friend, who I’m supposed to meet for coffee today, said that moral honesty and moral ambition are equally useless, as neither one can accurately predict what a person will actually do in the moment, when the moral decision must be made. I agree, and this explains a lot about my ex. I was judging him on what he said he would do, and of course, once whatever chips were down, what he said is not what he did, not by a long shot.

My academic friend, who I am supposed to meet for coffee, as someone comes over to finish the neverending project that apparently is my bathroom.

I remember a dream I had, with me and my brother standing somehow at the top or perhaps the bottom of the central staircase of our old home (I notice how I refer to it), with water running out of the bathroom, down the hall and the stairs like a waterfall.

It’s okay.

My brother to me. How old is he in that vision, perhaps 11? I have to see him again, it’s been a while. Maybe one day I’ll get used to the fact that he has grown up.

Today I’m supposed to do work. I have a bunch of emails that I have to sort out, asking me to go places. There’s a lot of money in each of these places. I don’t feel at all inspired to say more about that, even though, to an outside observer, that might be the most interesting part of my life. Maybe that’s why I did this, because I’m afraid to live a life of mediocrity, and I’d rather be infamous if I can’t be famous.

Ironically, I have always been afraid of fame, because it would make people look at me and then they would find out everything else I’ve been up to. Not that they would care, anymore.

Memory and anticipation are opposites. With me, we can enjoy both.

Roughly sketching out an idea for some paraprofessional writing that I have to do, which I have been putting off. I stole the concept from Carlo Rovelli’s Order of Time, which I was so sad to finish. I have to see what else he has available.

Deep breath, it hurts today. I worked too hard this weekend. There were other people, and then the boy unequivocally pissed me off. How the fuck can a person be so selfish?

I have room for exactly one narcissist in my life. And that spot is taken.

Me to my Father, probably talking about why I broke up with my ex, or why I’m such a bitch to everyone, or something like that. He of course thought it was hilarious that I allowed him in my life, unapologetic for all the other narcissists left completely out in the cold.

I fought an urge to scroll back, for absolutely nothing. This post is nothing today, and that’s honestly fine. My academic friend says that this is pointless and I almost agree, in any way that he would judge success. I’ll continue, and perhaps finish, with a list of reasons why I like this and have justified continuing.

  • I think that using my brain gently in the morning is good, as it eases me into work. It was better than opening up twitter every morning.
    • unlike Twitter, this habit has a definite start and stop point, a definite rhythm and cycle. I guess I could put that in there
    • Unlike Twitter, this does not always stress me out immeasurably, or at least I have the opportunity to pull myself out of whatever despair I cause myself here after the second cup of coffee
      • maybe that’s why I’ve been keeping my posts so shallow here, so that I can actually get up and do anything at all with my day instead of snivelling around.
  • I think that practicing my writing and my typing is good
    • Of course, I could work on another project for this, any of the projects that I never get to.
      • I’m not inherently feeling passionate about any particular arena of my life in the morning, and I think that this space gives me space to decide where I’m going to go for the day.
        • Of course, this is a lie, because it still takes an extra cup of coffee after writing, and a cigarette, to decide to make a plan, a plan that is subject to distractions of any kind, usually multiple kinds, and generally I forget what it is at all until 2am.
  • I do, maybe not lately, feel that some of the thoughts that I uncover here are good, worthwhile, and worth exploring.
    • Although I did recently come up with the moral ambition vs honesty question, which I thought was a good one, even if in the end it’s entirely irrelevant. I can’t believe that I had that on my head all day, and my academic friend shot that down in a minute without a second thought and he’s absolutely right to do so.
      • I do worry sometimes that my brain is getting fuzzy. I’m hoping it’s just lack of sleep.
  • It’s fun.
    • Fun is a strange concept, this is really not actually fun. But it feels interesting to me, and for a while, maybe not lately, it feels like it helps.
  • It keeps an adequate timeline of all this.
    • There’s an awful lot that happens. Again, The Order of Time, it feels like a lot when it’s happening but not much at all once it’s gone, crumpled and put into the pile with all the other rough drafts of days. This way I hit publish, this way I place the dots on a timeline, this way I can look back and flip through or search the index or somehow manage to hang on to the enormity of the year. This really has been a year, I don’t think people, or myself, are ready to accept that. How do we accept what just happened, mountains of bodies, our friends.

And everyone is just worried about the economy.

Fuck capitalism.

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