Cleaning the Slate
My slate has 44 years of trash, old markings, embedded permanent marker glossed over with a fine coat of clear nail polish, graffiti done in indelible ink, and chiseled scratchings etched in acid and rust. I did so much last year, so much I am proud of, and I have yet to start anything this year. I think it is because my slate is not clean. I am here by denoting this, and setting about clearing it. First, let’s get out a rough steel wool and take off the first layer of garbage.
I have an almost uncontrollable urge to eat crappy food. I have done so well, so much, started riding my bike this past year, getting exercise, getting out. I feel like I hit this wall yah know? I hate winter, honestly, it is so easy to make an excuse when its -8 Celsius outside, to not go or do. Oh bloody hell, I miss writing. Soon as I turn on the pen, on comes the brain. Ok ok, that was confusing. So it is like this, although everyone says it, and I watch the event occur with my lady, who goes to the gym VERY on spot and regular, unlike me, it is exercise. I literally just thought it as I wrote it. I need to exercise again, no matter what.
I really do not want to go through any more layers now, sheesh. It is exercise, and only exercise that is missing from my routine again. I just hate the holidays. Work was completely unbearable, and it gets me depressed and I get depressed and I start eating. I have everything going for me, why the hell am I depressed? I am 58 days from the big move to Oz, land of my dreams, island of hope and love for me, and I am depressed from the holidays again.
So that is the second layer, depression. I do not know how to deal with that one, I really do not. Maybe the exercise will work against it. I can’t see a doctor, I sure wish I could do something about it medically, just to get over this hump, but I am on my own here. Scrub a dub dub, three layers on the tub, and one of them is not soap scum. I hit the third layer, I can see it so clearly now. I fear myself, I fear, that she will not love me when she sees me. I wanted to lose so much more weight, before I left, and I was on the right track too, dammit.
The third layer of my unclean slate is fear of failure. I want anyone who reads this to understand, right now, what you are reading is the actual thought process as it happens, I am not going to change this, but instead continue the automatic writing until I am clear. I will just go back for spelling and gobbledygook. I can see now my three barriers I must overcome, before I can carry my slate above my head proudly. I must first of all, get into exercise again. I think it may be the key. I sometimes wish we were like the Japanese were back in the 80’s, doing yard exercise every morning before the work routine began. Second of all, I must battle depression, using what tools I have. Thirdly, I must build my confidence back up, to where it was this summer.
These three things are the dirt clouding my clean slate, the grunge of untold years of horrid conditions, that sit on me and weigh me down even after all this time, even after all my luck changed when I met my Everstar. I met her because I was more confident, although I am still impossible, I was confident the day we met, and I am overtly confident even now. She keeps me going and has been wondering what was wrong with me, asked a few times lately, now I know. I know why she asked, and I know why I didn’t answer.
Quiet all this time, no blogging, no direction, just silence.
This is the price I pay, trying to be a cashier in a shitty job, and trying to uphold my values as a writer. Hmm, maybe I am not saying that right, but that is the gist of what I am trying to say. We humans pay a terrible price for jobs, for although the job is not the single underlying cause of my feelings right now, it is the major contributor and the direction the negative force is coming from. I only have 58 days left, I can do it, I know I can, and it is already getting easier, even the lords and judges of the workplace are taking it easy on me and laying off now. I did 45 days in jail once, it was a miserable experience but worse than going to work. Not much worse, which is a source of another conversation later. Funny how jail and work compare though, almost as equals, well, at least in my toxic work environment.
I do not know how I will come out, but tonight, for the first time since thanksgiving day, I feel like I have a hand on the handle of the problem. I can see now where I went wrong, and what I can do to change it. I can also see the end of the main source of my depression and lack of motivation. Soooooooo many people feel like I do too, not just me. So many people need vacations and time off, and can not afford it in america. America, land of dreams stolen and sold, childhoods erased by 4th grade. Personally, I will not weep for its passing, when the time comes and it passes, because all my dreams were thoroughly squashed until I met my Lady, and even after meeting her, the hydraulic piston of dream squashing is working overtime and getting over heated at the idea that I have dreams again.
I can say I am glad I wrote today. I am sure most of you are bored by line 10, to long, didn’t read, ect, ect, but I am glad I did. I have handles to grasp now, and I have a toolbox, even if it is mostly empty and overused, that will help me along. Apologies to all for the long silence, part of working out includes using my brain, so I will be posting quite regular again. I want to hit over 100 posts by the end of January, and not filler either, but some good articles and maybe another review of a Denver restaurant. Cheers!