Running Ragged

Sometimes I just feel mildly irritated about something and I just ramble for a bit to try to figure out what’s going on. This is a ramble.

I’ve been doing a bad job at maintaining anything resembling balance in my life as of late.

I blame my job. Realistically, I suppose I should blame myself since I’m the one in charge of balancing my life.

It really doesn’t feel like my brain is backing me 100% though. I’ll have it all worked out in my head that I’m supposed to go do my job and it just makes me feel tired, irritable and distracted.

I don’t think my natural disposition is to work more than 30 hours a week or so. I like to read and exercise and eat and play on the internet and watch movies and lots of other stuff.

I think I’m still hitting up on that existential sort of question: “when have I done enough?”

I am constantly brimming with ideas on how to change the world, but I can’t seem to escape from it.

God’s honest truth, I developed a bit of a messianic complex during high school.

Everyone thought I was gay and being a gay kid in a small Southern high school is not exactly Awesome-Land.

I turned to religion to help me deal with how shitty most people were to me. (In retrospect, many people were actually nice, but I didn’t yet really see that. I expected everyone to dislike me and so that’s what I saw.)

I slept all day through school to escape from the bullies and I would lie away at night thinking about my life and why it seemed so unfairly prejudiced against me when my life had been as moral as any of the people around me.

Rather than doubt God’s grace, I decided that I was like a piece of iron being forged.

I used to dream that when I got older I would become a preacher because those were the holiest men I could think of.

So, my suffering was just. God was tempering me to become something good.

I still think that way at times. I’m almost addicted to the pain.

Which isn’t really ok with me. I don’t laugh enough anymore. I’m this really confused jumble of pushing myself to be really intense and suck the life out of every moment while simultaneously trying to slow myself down and enjoy things.

I’m mostly ok with being poor. I’m becoming ok with being odder than most people. I still not really ok with ending.

I think that lack of comfort shows in the magnitude of my plans. I’m aiming to change the whole world.

To do something big enough that it changes the path for humanity.

I certainly can’t say that I wouldn’t accept a Nobel Peace Prize, were one offered to me.

Though I’ve got no moral qualms about trying.

That seems like a “shoot for the moon and even if you miss you’ll land in the stars” sort of deal.

I’m not going to run my life into the ground though trying to make those big changes.

Or at least I’m trying to stop doing that since I already see it happening.

There has to be some balance struck between outward focused things like writing and planning and programming and whatnot, and inward focused things like meditation and reading and time spent doing things I enjoy that aren’t necessarily productive.

I have to learn to say, “I’ve done enough.”

I’m having trouble doing that as of late, but I think a big part of the problem is that I’m not really doing all that much.

I’m sort of mildly committed to my work because I don’t generally feel like doing it.

But I have to because I have deadlines and will get bitched at.

So I waste lots of time and at the end of the day I can’t figure out what I actually did with the day.

I’m gonna go to bed and get up tomorrow and try actually accomplishing something and see if that makes me feel better.

I had a few weeks a couple semesters ago where work ethic, meditation, sociability and drugs seemed to hit a solid balance.

I felt solidly connected to a deep enjoyment of my life. Hopefully I can manage that again.

If not, I’ve only got six weeks left. ☺

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