Diary-Ha!

Work in Progress #1

This morning finds me chit chatting addicts and addiction behavior with coworkers. When we compare our front line stories there’s a lot of knowing similarities. The swapping is super therapeutic and a great reminder for keeping on top of sobtriety. Tally ho!

So releasing of pics will happen with this post and continue going forward. Expect many “works in progress” and practice pics. I hate to qualify the showing of pictures as if the action were a big deal or (shrug) anyone gives a fuck. Given that I can’t live up to my own perfectionism, I have to prep myself for unnecessary shame. Prep and move beyond.

I guess that’s just the kinda guy I am.

You know what? There are so many uncertainties. Those future targets are always moving targets. My aim is blurry and the shooting hand is shaky. Calm myself, take it a day at a time, and maintain what faith is there; I’ll do myself and this effort a service.

Speaking of, is there a plan? Pft! We’re I a man with a plan I’d be way Way WAY further along. No. Let’s focus on basics. Self care, exercise, clean eating, and build from there.

I fully plan for and even expect hiccups. Lord knows, what’s life without the hiccups… So many hiccups…

Alas with digressions, uh, yeah. This counts as a post and this counts as a slick closing thought.

Fake It Until… Wait

Fake it until you make it, ladies and gents. An axiom I’ve come to live by a few different times. It’s not at all bad if it gets you through to the other side of one project or another. As far as lifestyle, it’s a recipe for repression. So, as the old saying goes: Be careful with the words you live by.

Hashing that shit around because, fuck, it’s what a dithering mind does.

I’m low status, low wage, minimal materialism with no debt, tons of free time, flexible, comfortable. What little I have, I feel as though my shit is together.

I’m not sure why I insist on being an artist author. I’m convinced my salvation will not be found in either. It’s also the case where I hate to throw away all the hours I invested into my crafts… There’s some suffrage id really really like to vindicate. There’s also the very stark realization that if I don’t chase those, I’ll stop chasing. I will effectively give up and let the emptiness consume.

None of us want that.

Thus, I’m back at the grind. While I whole heartedly doubt my salvation will be found in either art or writing. At least they keep me on the path and moving. Who knows, maybe I can settle on redemption.

For Frup’s Sake

Looking over last week’s post and the title nagged as familiar. I couldn’t quite place a finger. Nagging persists. Google “Square 1”, somewhere, on the bazillionth page, is a blog entry from yours truly. For fuck’s sake, I just plagiarized myself.

Mmkay, looooooong slow skeptical thinking. Guess who is nervous about trying this stuff again. Guess who has given himself PTSD over this shit. Guess who is super bad about keeping the faith and following through. Mother Hubbard in the cubbard with a rubber lover… Pardon the expletives.

So incoming self trauma.

I’m honestly thinking about picking up a shrink for this go-through. Might as well attend a support group too. My fears are many, isolating, depression, the inevitable crazy. Social anxiety, social ineptitude, burnout! Yet, I’m still compelled. Mother Hubbard!… Again, sorry.

What am I going to do differently? What can I do that I haven’t already done a millionth time before? What jank logic am I falling into? What am I not seeing? Oh, look! More uncertainty! More neuroses. Long, long sigh.

I’ll get computers outta the house? Go cyber sober. Which will keep me focused and bored as fuck, but honest. The advertising, though. I just don’t know. I have no idea what, why, or how. I’m a nervous bird. Yet, still compelled.

Times like these, I respect those people who can and do practice faith. What a skill! In the face of uncertainty, sometimes dauntingly so, the ability to keep optimistic, endure, and follow-through. Wow, what a nice gift to have.

Nervous and uncertain as I am, I’m gonna throw myself against this wall. Again. It’s a lifelong affliction, I’m sure. The hope is to convert that affliction into a blessing… Somehow.

%d bloggers like this: