Writer’s funk ain’t no fun

I’m still in the midst of this writer’s funk, where I feel like I want to write something, but I simply don’t know what I want to write about lately.  It’s hard to explain how I’m feeling these days; I can’t say that I’m in one of my bouts of depression or being all ronery-emo, because I don’t really think I am.  Work is boring and stagnant, but it’s not like I didn’t know this was going to be the status quo when I took this job.  I’m working out and exercising along the same clip, and I feel physically fine, and mentally too, for the most part.

Yet, I can’t really find or think of anything remotely interesting to write about these days, to which that puzzles me a bit.  Usually, I lean onto local news, or try to find something remotely interesting on the internet to spark some train of thought worthy to put into words.  But Atlanta news is pretty stagnant and predictably boring, and nothing makes me want to write about racist agendas and the obvious racial bias that “my fair city” exhibits on such a regular basis.  Not to mention the fact that all the local Atlanta news outlets are money-grubbing rags that recycle the same news anyway.

The Atlanta Braves blog I occasionally write for, I’ve been informed that there are going to be some changes with.  Although it’s nothing really that serious, it does make me wonder if I want to continue to obligate myself with writing about baseball on a weekly basis.  Obviously, my fandom with baseball has grown a little disenchanted over the last three seasons, but I kind of wonder if this was an opportunity to dive head-first into trying to re-invigorate it, or if I just want to stop outright.  Sometimes I think that my position of floating in the middle isn’t necessarily the best idea.

Speaking of baseball, it’s not that I don’t love the game any less than I used to, but here’s an interesting fact: I’ve been to one Braves game all season.  I’ve been to more baseball games at Coors Field in Denver, than I have at home in Atlanta.  I’ve seen as many games in Detroit and Miami as I have at home in Atlanta.  It’s not that I don’t enjoy going to the ballpark, it’s just that the idea of going alone isn’t what it used to be.  I tell you, one of these days I’m just going to have to buckle down and get on board with an 81-game plan, and make my damndest effort to do an entire 81-game season.

Maybe this is the kind of slump that happens when I don’t really do anything in my spare time.  I’ve been spending a lot of time reading lately, and I have to admit that since I started using my iPad as a Kindle, I’ve been reading a ton of books, and I’m finding it more of a bear than anything else when I force myself to read a physical book again, but my declaring particular authors as “physical book only,” it’s something that I’m not going to abandon any time soon.

But my list of options of things to do when I’m at home is a little stale, and makes me think that it’s contributing to my overall mental stagnancy lately.  All I do when I’m at home as of late is either read, play LoL, or watch DVR’d shows.  I could be a little bit more productive and try to do some cleaning, but when 95% of the clutter in the house isn’t mine, it’s somewhat unappealing and unrewarding to even fathom, let alone do, especially when it feels like it’s just going to have to happen again in a week.

Perhaps I need more activities to do in my spare time, to stimulate my brain into wanting to write about something.  That’s usually what normally happens, when I really find inspiration to write, while I’m doing something else, creating the false conundrum that I need to address and write about something while the iron is hot, but oh noes, I suddenly don’t seem to have the time to do such.  Perhaps I should actually address these projects for Dragon*Con while there’s still plenty of time in advance, as opposed to trying to get everything done in the month of August like I ended up doing last year.

But until then, this writer’s funk blows.  I like having something a little more focused to write about.

Sounds about right

And here I thought I was having a pleasant day.  Purchased an iPad at a discounted cost, found a strip club $20 on the sidewalk, and was kept busy enough at work to make the day kind of breeze by.  When I left work, I figured I would pick up Jen, be off the hook for dinner with tasty leftovers, and then watch the Braves vs. Yankees game while playing with my dog.

When I got in my car and pulled out of my space, I realized that the tire light was on in my car.  My car has low-profile tires (standard, please), so it wasn’t much of a surprise to me that one or more of them might be having some deflation after the last 17 months.  But still, I don’t like seeing any warning lights on in my car, so I planned on rectifying the air issue when I got home.  The initial cruise test revealed that there was a slight pull to the left, so I figured the low tire was on the driver’s side; normal, since I primarily am the only driver, so there’s always more weight on the left side.

After picking up Jen, I did the cruise test again, and this time, the pull happened to be a bit stronger.  At this point, I made the decision to stop at the next gas station ASAP, since I figure my tires weren’t warm enough to be filling up hot tires yet.  I pull off at a gas station, and I get out of my car, and see that the front driver’s tire is indeed, pretty low.  Surprisingly low.  Unusually lower than I thought it might be.

Continue reading “Sounds about right”

One of THOSE posts

Lately, I’ve felt like I’m in a bit of a rut.  I hate to say it, because of how cliche and just how maddeningly sad it sounds, but I think I’m depressed.  Nothing is really making me happy, and I’m not finding enjoyment in the things that normally do bring me enjoyment.  I’ve been lacking in motivation to do things, and even the routine things feel tedious, bothersome, and are things I don’t really want to do.  These are all tendencies that are associated with depression, so I’ve little reason to deny that I just might be depressed.

It’s not that things are absolutely terrible right now with my life or anything, but I just feel like my life isn’t really going anywhere right now.  My job is pretty much day in, day out, go to the gym, wash, rinse, dry, repeat.  I come home, and I don’t quite know what to do sometimes.  Baseball is always an option, but as has been my fluctuating level of enthusiasm over the last three years, it doesn’t always get the job done.  I’m happy that I have a dog again, but these emotions seem to go beyond the point where having a sleeping dog in my lap isn’t always comforting.  I’m on the cusp of dropping a pretty penny on an iPad to give myself an expensive toy to play around with, but I’m already expecting it to not really make me happy or anything.

All I do know is that something ain’t working in my life these days, and I don’t really know how to fix it.

A brilliant analogy if I must say so myself

You know when you’re watching an episode of Deal or No Deal, and 99% of the time, the contestant will lose out on the $1,000,000, somewhere in the middle of the show?  The music gets that epic tone, and everyone face palms, and Howie Mandel goes “ohhhhh,” but then the show goes on just fine, because the case with $750,000 is still left, and that’s still a lot of money to potentially win.  But then ultimately, they’ll say “no deal,” one too many times, and not only will most of the time, they lose out on the $750,000, the $500,000, the $250,000, etc, etc, and before we know it, they’re desperately clawing at the opportunity that they can win about as much money as they would if they won a regular episode of Wheel of Fortune.  But it’s still okay, because even $25,000 is still a really nice chunk of change to win, especially for no other skill than when to say “yes.”

The situation I’m in right now is a lot like this.  But instead, the banker is dead, so there are no tempting compromises for me to possibly cash out with, and every single case above $25 has already been eliminated.  At this point, I’m literally playing for $5 or $0.05, but it doesn’t matter which one I ultimately end up with, because I’ve still really just lost the game anyway, but it’s still gotta be played for the sake of finality.

I thought this year was supposed to be better than the last year.  Even with the start of the baseball season, I can’t help but feel like garbage on a fairly regular basis, and my head’s most certainly not in the right places lately.  Call me crazy, but there are parts of me that would rather be enduring the uncertain stress of not know when my next paycheck is coming, as opposed to some of the shit I’m dealing with right now.  April is supposed to be my month, and it’s definitely not the case right now, and I’m resenting my parents for it.  I don’t really want to go to Virginia this weekend, but I’m going anyway.  Family deals with bullshit head on, not over any fucking phones.

One positive to a rekindled angst

With my head not necessarily on straight these past days, I’m finding it easier to run in the mornings.  Furthermore, due to the fact that the current gig is 47 miles from my house, in the worst traffic part of Metro Atlanta, I’ve forced myself to wake up at 6:30 a.m., instead of forfeiting any working out at all.  And at least for the last three days, waking up at 6:30 has been less troublesome than when I awoke at 7 a.m. in order to run and do some working out prior to getting to whatever gigs want me there at 9:30-10.

Or maybe it’s the subconscious reminder of rejection that is unconsciously driving me to want to improve myself further again, starting with the physicality, and making running and lifting in the mornings less of a nuisance, and more of a motivation.  Maybe it’s just the structured routine that I’m always aspiring to have that’s doing it.  Either way, good for me, for exercising.

The work itself is easy, time-consuming, and in a way, therapeutic.  I can more or less turn off my brain and mow through assignments like a weedwacker.  Two freelancers were brought in to undertake this project, and I felt that it was unnecessary.  Turns out that I was right, and that while I’m still here, the other guy was sent home.  Not to toot my own horn, but I know I’d be an asset to any fucking company that just had the balls to actually hire me.

A cranberry vodka sounds like a fantastic way to end the day.

False truths

Fact: 5000% of potential companies looking for graphic designers are located in Norcross, Lawrenceville, Duluth, or Alpharetta.  They all list their offices as “Atlanta.”

Truth:  0% of these are remotely even close to the City of Atlanta.  Technically, I don’t even live in the City of Atlanta, but as sure as shitting out of my asshole, I’m a lot fucking closer to Atlanta than any of those regions 25+ miles outside of the city.

But it’s not their fault.  It’s mine.  I chose to live in this part of town where robberies occur more frequently than others, none of my local friends live anywhere near, and I’m completely on the polar opposite side of the city from where I could probably already have a job by now.  And nothing can be done about it, because regardless of what the news and media is boasting about an improving economy, homeowners like myself can’t possibly even fathom wanting to sell property, and even have a prayer at breaking even.

A small bit of truth

Even though the alarm is set, admittedly, over the last two weeks, in the back of my mind, is some fear.  As I lay in bed, before sleep befalls me, my eyes dart over to the security panel on my wall to verify and re-verify that the red light indicating that the security system is on.  I used to set my television to sleep timer on some of the plain music channels, just because I had some insomnia, but I grew to preferring silence.  But now I’m back to the former, because I try to convince myself that classical music can possibly mute some of my thinking.  It doesn’t.  But the sound is comforting.

I hate this feeling.  And as much as I’m aware the passage of time reduces the feelings, there is never going to be light at the end of the tunnel.