What To Do?

As in, “What to do with myself”?

Finals are done. So freshly done that I have little idea what grades look like. There are two candidates for failure, to be fully honest. But I feel like I finished well enough in both classes so I am optimistic about closing out the semester will all passing grades. Yay.

Today finds me cleaning the house. Some out of residual school anxiety, some out of the sudden quiet, and maybe a pinch out of good old fashioned worry. House chores have been neglected since mid October. So gross. If I brought a girl home and she saw my bathroom, so traumatic would be the sight that she’d die on the spot. And I’d get arrested and rightfully charged with murder.

Cleaning that pit is on the agenda. I promise. Today or tomorrow. I have a very full to do list and I’m just choosing chores depending on my mood. Like now, for instance, I went from cleaning the kitchen to old art supplies to minimizing junk drawers to needing a break. Each task unfinished but I need a moment. Say, since I’m sitting, why not reawaken the blog?

How long has it been since I wrote here last? October 24. Yeah, sounds about right. You see somewhere between late October and shortly after New Year’s on any given year, I slump into a bout of seasonal depression. I slack on all the things and usually enter an emotional dormancy that insists my physicality match. This year, despite the slacking on exercising, chores, and all the responsible things, I managed to keep it together enough to make it through school. I’m still unsure how. Between you and me,I have a real deep feeling that if I don’t get this school thing done, I’m done.

So here I am between semesters with a weird depression I need to distract myself from. The plan is to busy myself with chores or to-do lists or something productive. I’ve squandered enough of my life on video-games and making my fantasy worlds intricate and achieved, why not try the same but in real life. Even if my mood is fucked, at least I’ll have some material possessions to show for it. Maybe just maybe, in my good times, I can build up enough of a savings to power me through when I experience these faltering times.

I look to doing art again with a hungry eye. And a heavy heart. I do not have the time, focus, or discipline to pick it up and stick to it. It’s a demanding hobby and one that has broken me enough times to know better. Still . . . Maybe after I figure out cleaning, school schemes, and a few toilsome house projects, I might just be good to myself and give in.

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