I got all my work done yesterday, not too many people annoying me, bugging me, interrupting me, or wanting something done. IT finally got their act together and updated my system. Not too much pain there. Deadline for everything to be finished is tomorrow, so, I pretty much, have the day free. Yay.
Gotta love working from home.
I should get on to my novel. I should. I should want to get it finished, to get it out there, to have something for eternity, but, nyr? What do I care? Eternity, smernity?
Lazy? Maybe? Insecure? Can I really do it? I think I am more lazy that afraid. Writing is hard work. I’m making excuses, sure.
We spend our lives thinking we matter, but really... dead for 50 years – is that two generations? – and nobody will remember you. It's the truth. No matter how special you think you are.
Do I care about anything? Not really? Not like I did once, not like I did when I was young. When I’m dead, I’ll care even less. We're conned into caring about all sorts of fucken things by the news services because it is in the news services best interest to get us hooked on the shit they spew up to us. Don’t be conned, let it go.
There is so little to care about. But we fill our lives with it.
Of course, I care about my close and personal love. Of course, I care about Sam. Of course, I care about the things I can touch with my fingertips, that goes without saying. But, do I care about anything else, no, not really. What's the point? Really?
Why would I care about you? (Give me a reason, I guess?)
It is too easy to get distracted. Suddenly, I’m invested in Melania having a body double. Or how bad domestic violence is. Or how Peta Cretin is wearing her mask wrong. Sheesh!
What’s real gets lost so easily in what’s trending. Is that fashion? That’s fashion, forgotten tomorrow.
Shake of my head.
I just need to get inspired in writing, not all the other stuff, then I write like I'll never tire. It comes in bursts, it comes in waves, it is totally unpredictable. (Well, not totally, if I make myself start it generally flows)
Close the news websites and pick up a novel and read, that’s a start, that's what I say. I say to myself. Tell myself. I've just got to learn to listen better... to myself. I guess we all do.
So much time to waste otherwise.
3 comments:
Wasting time is also a waste of time hehe
I get what you mean about oblivion. At some point, (presumably) nothing of us will exist anymore. That makes me want to work on myself, my relationships, etc.
Some people view the passage of time as - they NEED or REQUIRE there to be a piece of themselves left afterwards. Through media, books etc. I wonder if (as corny as it sounds) the ways that we help our friends and family, that energy of up-cycling good communication and healthy relationships leaves an imprint (cosmically, genetically) on our forebears - and is that piece of ourselves, our legacy, enough?
Mostly I just get lost in my day to day work, workin from Home in Wangaratta, Vic. Wondering about buying houses, seeing friends and hoping for romantic love one day.
I'm sure if you come from a loving, caring family where its members are looked after by those who come first, a piece of the elders does become a part of the younger ones and is passed on in goodness to the world. I know I had lots of wonderful aunts and uncles who were very kind to me and who I think about often even now long after they have died.
Awww That's nice.
A little bit of love goes a long way :)
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