Journey to Nothing

[LastThursday]

The last week I thought I would bring myself back down to earth. The blasted cold I had helped ground me in my body and in reality - thanks cold. I always pride myself on my ability to not get ill. Once a year? I'll take that! I do so hate being ill with a passion.

And so it is. Not working and having large tracts of "me" time continually pulls me into my a set point. I read a lot, watch stuff on YouTube, watch occasional series on streaming, go for walks, play my keyboard, meet friends for lunch, constantly learn new stuff etc. etc. And I'm prone to fantasising plenty. Ultimately though, I just want a calm peace whilst the swell around me churns away.

I know the precious peace is not going to last. Life ebbs and flows and catches you up in its shenanigans. For example my landlady is selling my flat, so I have to find a new one really. I can't afford to indefinitely not work, so I have to find a job really. My dad has been moved to a hospice and his cancer continues unabated, so I have to say my goodbyes really. I have nearly finished my app I'm coding, so I have to get it published really. 

All the time people around churn away and ask me all those questions: how's your dad, how's your job hunting, hows your flat moving, have you found a girlfriend yet, have you XYZ? I know that really they're just saying: Guillermo we love you and want the best for you. But can' they see I'm a nearly 54 year old man who knows their own mind, has always done things in their own way and time, and that the worst possible way of interacting with me is to keep reminding me of things I should be doing? Don't these people know me at all!? Even my sister who knows my core being better than anyone needles me. Why! Arghhh. And even my own dying father doesn't get that I just want him to say "Son, how are you? I'm just calling to say hi." instead of "Son why aren't you doing what I want you to do?". Of all the people he knows me the least.

I take a breath and try and carry on with things stoically, but reality keeps knocking on my door. But the worst person for it, and really the one who knows me most intimately is: myself. He's a right pain the ass with his idealistic notions of this and that and the way things should be, the fantasies he wishes were true, but whose reality probability either won't ever happen or if they did wouldn't really be what he wanted. Can I really make a life sitting by the beach sipping coffee and beer all day? No. Will that great romance really last for ever in a state of perpetual bliss? No. Is the perfect person for me full of beauty and intelligence and life really out there? No. Is the idea of working for myself on some grand project going to give me momentum and zest for life? No.

Instead, I'm just a big bag full of cats constantly fighting each other.  I progress in fits and starts with long periods of stasis and inaction. And even writing this is a vain attempt at trying to understand that bag of cats, and it's a miracle anything happens at all. That smart alec me tries to be constantly high-falutin and insightful and solution oriented. The pragmatic wistful me says fuck off I like my peace and quiet, I've had enough of that obligation crap for one lifetime thank you. 

So what to do? Nothing. Carry on as you were. Guillermo you're your own worst enemy.

I'll restart my magical workings, engage with it fully, see what happens.

 

 

Edited 11 hours ago by LastThursday