Lately, I’ve been struggling getting up in the morning to run. A combination of not regularly working, but mostly the fact that at 7:00 am, it’s as pitch black as Wesley Snipes outside, and I can’t really fathom running in it. So, I’ve been skipping my morning jogs far too frequently, which obviously, is not a good thing.
Worse, I’m posting such thoughts from a Five Guys. I’m going to become a (worse) jealous fatty again at this rate.
I’ve been well aware throughout the last fifteen days that I hadn’t updated the brog in a while. And as much as I felt the obligation to myself to keep up the practice of writing, I just didn’t feel like it. But in all fairness, I haven’t really felt like doing a whole lot of much throughout the last few weeks. To be perfectly honest, I didn’t much feel like doing much writing now, but enough has more or less been enough, and I figure it would be good to put some words down on the e-paper to hopefully clear my head a little bit.
As has been the general mood of self these last few months or so, things have not been going too particularly well in my life, as well as the lives of those around me. I’ve hit a little bit of a rough patch, and am still kind of riding it right now. Just the other day, I went to the bank and deposited a small cache of cash that I had stashed away, designated as “birthday money only to be spent on something superficial and gratifying and not bills” . . . because my bank account was precariously low, and without the deposit, I run the risk of not being able to pay my bills. The disaster was temporarily averted, but it doesn’t really change the fact that I’m occasionally feeling the overwhelming feeling of drowning from time to time, compounded by emotions of the uncertainty of freelance working, and the phone not ringing with potential full-time work.
Earlier today, I returned home from the Braves’ afternoon game that I was able to attend because I’m not working, irritated that despite the stellar record the Braves have at home, they still managed to put up a stinker and lose to a poor Nationals team that made me wish I hadn’t come out to the park to witness. Compounded with the fact that I was irritated with the spontaneous traffic jam that occurred on my way home, the sheer lack of a conveniently located Chic-Fil-A to satiate the irritating hunger that descended upon me that caused an irritating headache, mostly stemming from zero caffeine prior to.
I returned home from trivia after yet another disappointing 4th place finish, irritated that no matter how well we think we’re doing, we’re just not quite good enough. As I was driving home, I thought to myself that I should probably get to bed as soon as possible, so I could wake up early for my morning jog. But what after that? I’m not working, so essentially, there’s absolutely little motive for me to sleep at a normal time, to wake up early. On top of that, I’ve had about four Diet Cokes in the last eight hours, and now I’m a little caffeinated; but at least the headache is gone.
I need to get myself some real fucking work.
Continue reading “Depression as result of unemployment, take #39”
When I actually have had the opportunity to see my own website, it hasn’t gone past me that the last time I posted anything was six days ago. Considering the earnest effort I’ve put into being a somewhat consistent brogger, six days is a fairly considerable length of time, given the fact that in the old iteration of things, I used to mostly post maybe once a month in the worst of times.
The simple fact has been that I’ve been busy working. Which, given the current state of me, is a very good thing; long story short, I’m pretty hurting right now in the wallet. A dry spell on the freelance front, as well as yet another change of the mortgage lender (and their subsequent payment policies) has me playing a lot closer to the heart than I have done in over two years. So, I’m not complaining that I’ve turned in a solid 41-hour work week, and am going to do as many hours as I can this week, even with Dragon-con looming ahead this weekend, even if it more or less means that I haven’t had much time to keep up with my writing.
When I haven’t been working, I haven’t really done a whole lot since last week. It’s more or less been the same old on a regular basis – wake up, run, lift weights, shower, eat cereal, go to work, work, come home, eat dinner, play Left 4 Dead, go to bed. Every now and then, I’ve watched some baseball, or watched some other show, but not a whole lot else. What can I say, I’ve been boring lately; given the financial woes, I’m finding it best to be a little dormant.
But anyway, since I had a somewhat passable time last year, I’m actually looking forward to Dragon-con this year. Like last year, more or less plan on showing up to the convention in the evenings, and loitering around the lobby of the Marriott. I will likely do a good bit of drinking out of a glass boot, possibly carry around a wrestling title belt, and hope to see some familiar faces, friends, acquaintances, Miranda Lawsons, Jill Valentines, Kelly Chambers, other hot chicks, and funny costumes that remind me of my childhood and/or better times.
Hopefully, as things settle down after the convention and this work schedule, I will get back to doing some more regular writing; admittedly, I have a few ideas of things I’d like to write, but just can’t quite seem the time to make things work. If and when things get worse financially, there are bound to be thousands of words to be unleashed when I go into full financial stay-at-home lockdown mode. But until then, it’s back to being busy, poorly multi-tasking, being social and shit, and not writing.
Since I don’t really want to fall into a brogger’s rut of simply posting nothing but a picture and a quick blurb of words, on a daily basis, I sit down today to write.
A brogger’s rut isn’t the only thing that I’m risking falling into these days, because as much as I hate to admit it, I feel that I have fallen into a more proverbial life’s rut these last few weeks. Ever since I returned from Chicago, I have struggled to get back into a sense of routine, comfort, and the resulting ease of mind that comes with doing the same shit on a regular basis. I guess it wasn’t necessarily the fault of my trip to Chicago, but now that I think about it, kind of a result of events and happenings of this summer as a whole, perhaps. Now I’m not going to say that my life is miserable and sucks by any stretch of the imagination, but at the same time I’m not going to ignore the facts, or at least hypothesis, that I might be a little depressed these days.
When I am actively looking for work, I actually base my a part of my decision whether or not I’d want to work for a place, on if the company’s logo looks good. I just saw a company’s logo being a whole bunch of faux-pixelated boxes with Myriad font in horrendous colors. I calmly closed that tab. And all I know is that I don’t ever want business cards, wherever I work; every time I have ever gotten business cards from a company, that has pretty much been the kiss of death for me.
Anyway, it’s back to normal life for me this week, hopefully. Used the excuse of coming back from a road trip last week for throwing me off my schedule, routine, and spent too many days sleeping in, not jogging or lifting, and eating like a got-damn pig. Getting back to some work would be nice.
The assignment I’m currently working, I will admit that I am not that fond of. It’s tedious, frustrating, and most certainly a perfect example of what happens when too many cooks are in the kitchen. Obviously, I am grateful to be working for the money necessary to pay the bills, but when the day is over, I’m fairly certain I could get another assignment elsewhere if I decided to take my trade elsewhere.
Today’s story is that there was a possibility that myself, as well as the two other freelancers working on this project may have had to have come in on Sunday to help catch this place up. Details are that it would have been on Sunday, from 10:00 a.m. to around 2-3:00 p.m., and the hours would not have been considered overtime. However, these hours were not mandatory, and we could just as easily declined the weekend work if we simply did not want to work it.
