Sorry it’s been so quiet around here–the Internet where I’m at is only available in drips and drabs… and coffee shops, mostly.
Normal service (whatever that is) will return on Monday. I will be returning slightly sooner than that, since my flight leaves in just a few hours time.
Happy Friday the 13th!
Ut oh…
This is it, the one-thousandth post.
I can’t think of anything to say.
I hope that at some point during the next 1,000 posts I actually get around to writing a good one.
Seriously, though–thank you for reading.
One afternoon, several years ago, I experienced an epiphany. It suddenly occurred to me that it had been a very long time since I was last in a relationship, and even though I had been trying to find a new one, I had not actually managed to do so–and perhaps, I never would. I had to admit, when I considered the balance sheet of my pluses and minuses, perpetual solitude was seeming more and more likely the more I thought about it.
Part of getting older is learning to let go of the dreams and fantasies of youth, sometimes because they are unreasonable, and sometimes because, no matter how mundane they might appear, you just can’t make them work for some reason. It seemed to me that relationships were turning out to be in the second category. So, knowing that, what do you do with the rest of your life?
Strike while the iron is hot, they say. Sometimes, you hear people say that about ideas. The theory is that it’s best to start working on something during that first flush of enthusiasm, getting as much done as possible while you’re motivated, because if you wait, you might not feel like putting in the necessary work, and the whole thing just fades away. I don’t know if this is valuable advice or not, but I do know this: By my projections, by around 2017 I’ll have as many unposted “drafts” as I do actual posts on this here blog.
While it seems that I don’t post an awful lot, it would be wrong to think that I’m not constantly writing posts. A lot of them just don’t get finished. I either never get to the end of them, or I go back to revise them and think, “Nooooooo, what have you DONE, don’t post that!” Which is not so bad, I think. But I never delete them, either.
The problem is that I keep thinking that I can someday go back and save them–which is ridiculous. In order to do something like that, I would need to work a lot harder than I do, or I’d need to be a lot better of a writer, which… is not a very likely future outcome.
Just seeing the sheer number of abandoned drafts on my screen is an enervating experience. Even when I log in to WordPress with fiery enthusiasm, that list of misfits stops me cold for a second. What am I going to do with these, I think to myself. I can’t finish them. But I can’t just delete them, either.
I should really be doing the latter, but it’s just too easy not to. They’re not taking valuable space in a desk drawer, they don’t have to be boxed up and shifted when I move or rearrange my furniture, they don’t bother me when I’m logged out of WordPress, so they don’t inconvenience me enough to overcome the propensity I have to never throw anything away.
At least, they didn’t used to. Now, I’m starting to get a little sick of looking at them whenever I’m here.
What’s funny is that I am a pretty ruthless reviser. Every essay you’ve ever read here (I’m not counting the “short” posts, which I don’t even proofread before posting) used to be at least twice as long in first draft. I don’t know why I work that way, it’s just what makes sense to me. But, while I am happy to lose material from anything that eventually gets published, I have a hard time deleting a post that doesn’t work in toto. Somehow, that’s different. I guess that polishing something for other people to read is acceptable to me, while blinking something else entirely out of existence is not.
What do you want from me, unused drafts? I can’t fix you! Stop looking at me like that with those puppy-dog eyes!
That’s enough hemming and hawing, I think. It’s finally time for me to ditch these boat anchors. Time to clear the decks, especially of stuff that is too heavily reliant on seafaring metaphors (I don’t even like boats, for crying out loud). Time to be ruthless, and cut out these digital freeloaders. Pah! Who needs them!
Besides, WordPress saves everything in the trash bin anyway, right?
So, yeah, the SOPA thing. A bunch of sites will be going dark on the 18th to protest/bring attention to the possible consequences for the Internet if SOPA becomes law. Now, being a WordPress.com site, I have no way to really join the black out. Also, I have so few readers, that my little contribution wouldn’t mean much anyway. (I still have plenty of zero-traffic days, even when I’m not protesting bad legislation.)
Still… I did put a ribbon up. That helps, right? Also, I will be taking the 18th off, because that’s kind of like blacking out, right? I swear I’m not cynically joining an idealistic bandwagon for my own nefarious purposes, bwa ha ha–I mean, um… look over there, it’s a distracting thing!
We may now be a couple of weeks into the new year, but the time is still ripe for the beginning of beginnings and the planning of plans. And, like any desultory blogger who sometimes forgets that he his in charge of updating and maintaining a website, I have various nebulous goals and projects that I should probably get in to some semblance of order. Let me first address the “Series.”
You may have noticed the link under the title of this page, and you may have wondered what it was for. The purpose of the Series posts was to address various “evergreen” topics with longer posts at irregular intervals. It has come to my attention that these intervals have become extremely irregular. As a result, I have decided to do something that I loathe: I’m going to have to make some decisions. To wit:
The series on smoking is going on hiatus. Until I actually quit, I can’t think of anything to add to that topic.
The Doubter’s Diary is going to require some attention, because as it stands now, it is a series with exactly ONE entry–and that’s ridiculous. That one essay is basically sitting there, mocking me. If I don’t have a second one posted before March, I may remove its listing from the Series page (though the essay will continue to exist).
There will be more Annals Of Alienation — whenever I get around to actually writing them, which should be soonish, but depends on how distracting my wild and extravagant social life becomes.
Moving on…
I used to pre-write and then schedule most of the short posts that you see on this site during my lunch break at my previous day job. This sort of thing is not really possible at my new place of employment. Therefore, I shall have to alter things a bit, and do most of my writing after work. This will make it seem as though I am a day behind all of the other sites that you read. This will be normal. Do not think that I’ve suddenly become unstuck in time, due to the fact that I seem to be talking about a bunch of shit that you’ve already seen and forgotten about.
In the event that I actually do become unstuck in time, I will contact you on your 18th birthday (whenever that may be) with a message of hope for your future-self, and the spacial coordinates for Tralfamadore. Please send a starship to pick me up.
Also…
I’d like to say a brief word about the copyright, and the usage rights of this site. First: You do not require my explicit permission to, adapt, sell, and/or reproduce, in whole or in part, anything that I have written on these pages. Technically, you’re supposed to attribute what you take, but you know what? I’m not going to hold you to that. Share and enjoy.
Finally…
I still do not like any of the free WordPress templates that are available. I have gone back to Quintus because its spongy, quilted design is the least offensive to my philistine sensibilities, out of what is available. I pray that someday there will be a readable design available that doesn’t look like something created out of day-glo Duplo blocks by a hallucinating clown, but I’m not holding my breath.
That’s it for now. I hope you all are having a good year so far.
So. It’s been a little quiet around here lately, I know. It’s for fairly typical reasons. You know the ones.
My brain is friiiiiieeeed. (That’s the comedy version of “fried,” by the way. Don’t know if that came across.)
I’m sorry. I don’t normally take such an informal tone during these little “chats,” and as much as would like to bring back the good old days when people used to dress for dinner, air travel, and the posting of links as an excuse for one or two weak jokes, I’m afraid I just don’t have the energy.
When I get home at the end of the day, I’d like nothing better than to curl into a ball on the floor and moan something like “Imsotiredwhaaaablflelf!” but I think it would attract unwanted attention. One of the roommates saw me almost fall off a ladder once, and inadvertently shouted “Meal-ticket, NO!” I’d hate to think of the mental strain it would cause them if they got the idea that I was having some kind of mental breakdown.
Because I’m not! I’m fine, honestly. It’s just that I don’t have a lot of fuel in the tank for the stuff I normally like to do outside of work. But that’s okay, it’ll just take some time for me to get used to the new pace of things, and then I’ll be right as rain.
It’s the commute that’s getting to me. I’m spending four hours a day just getting to and from work. I know, I know, that’s not so bad compared to everyone else, but it doesn’t change the fact that it means that I’ll be slowing things down here for a little bit.
But I’ll be around. Yawning, losing concentration–but around.
A new job means building new habits and growing accustomed to new indignities. You just have to get used to it–and the process of getting used to things generally sucks.
I mean, I like where I am. There’s no problem on that score. But that doesn’t change the fact that I have to deal with a whole host of brand new pains in the ass, and I’m still in the callus-building stages of this new chapter in my life. It’s like losing weight, or getting fit: there are no shortcuts. Well, at least none that don’t result in grievous mental or bodily harm.
Speaking of mental calluses: A lot of what I’m dealing with has to do with adjusting my attitudes, and that’s a real bitch, considering my cognitive stubbornness. For example, I tend to think of the time between the moment I wake up in the morning, and the moment I return to my house at night as “lost,” or “stolen,” or “wasted.” That’s bad even when I’m only traveling 45 minutes to and from work every day, but my new commute is looooooooooooong. Seen from the perspective of my old attitude, I might as well be dead for 14 hours out of every weekday.
But life isn’t just the stuff that you want to do, it is, unfortunately, everything that happens to you, even the stuff that goes on when you leave your body for 14 hours everyday. However, trying to maintain a disassociated state for that long is grueling. You have to find little moments to be vulnerable, in secret, where you briefly allow the pain and misery touch your tender, quivering insides. And then you slap yourself in the face until you can’t feel it anymore, and then you’re ready to go back to work!
Life can be vibrant and exciting, if only you’re willing to let yourself experience it, even if you’d rather be buried alive.
Goddamn it. This is exactly the kind of stuff I need to stop thinking if this is going to work. I think there’s something wrong with me.
I will be on the road and incommunicado for most of today. Have a great weekend, everybody.
I may be doing a fair bit of traveling next week. I will do my very best to have a post or two up, but I don’t really even know if I’m going to have Internet access where I’ll be going, so I can’t guarantee anything. We’ll just have to wait and see.
In the meantime, I leave you with another shot of some palm trees that I encountered a couple of months back on my trip to Southern California. Have a good weekend.
