Today promises a great deal of arduous and tedious work at work. My pessimistic outlook on our schedule projects me being at work in thirteen hours time and leaving in about twenty five. Yes it looks grim. However I’m hoping my new plan for multiple machine imaging (reduced task duration through restoration and migration integration) will allow us to have the sensation of only two thirds the work.
A guy can dream can’t he?
I was thinking, later, and I got an old stab of that hopelessness. Mind you it is completely unrelated (at least consciously) to work. I don’t like that uve had two since discontinuing the one medication. Best to keep track. Also I was dizzy today. Additionally I’ve been having sensations of a kind of feeling where I’m conveying my thoughts to another and I know what it is I’m doing but then immediately after it seems as though I’ve done something and a different sentiment or feeling has been conveyed – a negative one, despite the message’s actual content being right. Strange I know.
I was thinking just now if I’d ever pick up writing again in the near future. I was thinking of where I could pick up if I opted to do so. Robot Story seemed like a likely prospect. I had ideas floating around in that field and while I did for many stories in many fields, Robot Story seems like it’s the most probable. The most possible. The most accessable.
I don’t know. Nothing’s happening yet.
For something like the past three years (I’m not quite sure. I haven’t kept very careful track.). I have been using two common prescription drugs to combat my thirteen year standing major depressive diagnosis. Or however it should be worded. Over the course of thirteen years it has not been a solid run, no, of course not. There were many of the ups and downs a person could have all worked in there. But considering the consistency of this latest stint it is remarkable that the dry lackluster stability of the past while has led to the discontinuing of one of said drugs. It was postulated that it could be beneficial in light of the fact that I have a staggering, resounding lack of ambition and motivation to do much of anything. I’m perfectly complacent in my relatively low paying job where it seems that corporate policy prevents proper, decent (monetary) recognition of my actual worth.
Come to think of it I don’t think I’m very complacent at all. But I sure appear to be. Mostly because I’m still there. Well, I believe I like what I do.
I like who I work with.
And when I’m there sometimes I don’t like doing what I’m doing. And sometimes I do. I suppose we all have days.
Of course we all have days.
The point of it all us that there hasn’t been some kind of breakthrough yet. It’s been a few days. Sometimes if I missed or skipped a dose (supreme laziness) there sometimes would seem be an edging onto some kind of other, even opposite, space where things were clearer and I’d actually have bursts of inspiration and almost … Almost do something.
Almost. But not quite.
It’s be nice to do something. I think I used to do things.
I used to have a field. And I used to do things in that field. I studied that field for three and a half years academically and spent thousands of dollars studying on my own. Frightening but true.
What do I have to show for it? A portfolio of shit, one pro bono success, these thousands of dollars of resources that I absorb like a compulsive fiend and then do nothing with.
And this.
Inspired by but not necessarily relating to John Millhaus Cusack.
And I must move to the UK. Or Poland. Have you seen the (admittedly top of the top) women that are coming out of those places?