corviduality: Concept art of a strange man, from the game, The Longest Journey. (Life goes on...)
Cat ([personal profile] corviduality) wrote2019-08-12 05:51 pm

A needed vent.

Hullo, you.

Been a while and a half, hasn't it.

I keep thinking of things I want to put down on this, but by the time I have access to a proper keyboard, I've lost motivation to actually write.
That's been the case with a lot of things. I just don't feel like doing what I say I want to do earlier, and it takes less effort to simply distract myself than to...do something.

This habit is likely why I've been having a certain depressing train of thought recently.

Without going into too much detail, I've had the opportunity this summer to take a peek into what my life could be like once I'm finished with university. I got a part-time position at the job that I want to have someday. I otherwise have free time to do whatever.
It's been sobering, to say the least.
I'm...less than impressed with this vision of myself.

I go to work, come home, dick around on the internet, browsing things that give me only a momentary feeling of satisfaction and little to no real brain stimulation, go to bed, wake up and sit around on my ass until I either go to work again, or drive around looking for something to do and 90% of the time finding nothing; or I just sit inside all day.

I feel empty and disappointed in myself.
It's something I've only been able to realize yesterday. I was at an orchestra concert, and I was barely able to focus on it, I was so overcome by these thoughts.
I've been distracting myself with inane things, far too much, and it's left me little to no time to sit down and really think.
Y'know.
Use that brain I'm supposedly so proud of.
The poor thing is probably rotting up there, pointlessly begging for attention like a dying plant, incapable of doing anything but sitting there and letting itself look brown and soggy, and hoping someone notices.

...What it comes down to, I've realized, is the lack of anything to make me feel like my life is in motion. I'm not in school, working on my degree. I'm not learning anything. I'm not working on my books or stories. I'm not eagerly trying to gain new skills. Achieving the things I want to do now requires some self-initiative, rather than just going through the motions.
I have things I want to do, but I'm just...not bothering to do them. Because it's easier not to.
It's frighteningly easy, at my age, to tell myself I can do pretty much anything tomorrow.

...Is that what I want?
To end up in a rut of working just to eat, to buy more internet to distract myself, to occasionally wake my brain up with a cool new game or book that I never really let myself get emotionally invested in, because that requires using my brain and that risks running into something in my head that might be painful, or might be too difficult and make me feel stupid?
Do I want to wake up years instead of months later, realizing I've done fuck-all to be the person I want to be, and promising that I'll do the things I've always wanted to do...another day, because I have all the free time in the world, right?
Am I alright with that?
Becoming one of...those people?

...

FUCK no!
NO!
God, I never want to be that person!

And I have every opportunity not to be, goddamnit!

I have things I want to do!
I want to create!
I have BOOKS I want to write!
I want to learn new things, and weave worlds and stories and ideas out of them!

...That's who I am!
That's who I want to be!
That's what I was born to do!

Being in school for (what at the moment could be considered) the majority of my life has made it easy for me to fall into a habit.
I'm busy with school now, so I can put things off until later.
No more.

...It's out of season, but that one scene from A Christmas Carol just popped into my head.

"Spirit...hear me! I am not the man I was. I will not be the man I must have been but for this intercourse. Why show me this, if I am past all hope?
"Good Spirit...Assure me that I yet may change these shadows you have shown me, by an altered life!"


Dying without having actually published a story isn't objectively as bad as dying without having ever been loved or missed...but for me, it may as well be.


(Using this journal to store quotes I like from stuff I read is one of the things I keep promising myself I'll do, so, maybe this will help kickstart my actually doing things when I say I want to do them.)