I could take a bath. I guess the visual media don’t appeal to me. I could take a bath. I could read a book, or snuggle up with my Kindle. I could… I don’t know. I took a nausea pill because I woke up from my nap with a stomach ache, that kind where I can kind of smell what’s in my stomach (and it smells gross).
I want the arts to be more accessible. I want beautiful verse and prose to be, not intimidating, not this all-mighty thing like all authors make out their work to be. THIS is my book, and YOU will READ my book. No, not if you’re acting like that.
There’s so much subtext to everything. Some people are so stupid. Good people, but mindless. They go to like game conferences and just like what they like and have no problems in life. It’s annoying how being simple-minded is sort of a reward. I would never want it. I prefer the luxury of a complicated mind. But it comes with so many more problems. I’ve been diagnosed with schizoaffective disorder for like 8 years, for starters. And everything in between. Complicated, see?
Hopefully I just, everything at work is manageable. And I know what I’m doing. And it’s fine, because it’s okay, because it’s cool.
I don’t even know what tech companies do anymore. Social media is a giant fucking failure. They bask in it. Computers are useful utility tools but that’s about it. I don’t know! What is going on!?
And, yeah, the state of the world. This humanitarian crisis, that food shortage, etc. etc. It’s pathetic. I won’t say “economic disparity” without chuckling at how cliche it is because it’s always been there and no one’s done anything about it because no one can. But, y’know, it is. It just is.
So what do we do?
I don’t have any answers. I probably won’t take my bath. I will continue to ingest visual media ON the computer. I took my tummy pill. I need a good fucking poem or something. I need to design issue 2 of our magazine. I need something engaging with no intimidation factor whatsoever. I’m so scared. Not of failure, just of doing things. I don’t want to, because I don’t want to. Anyone with an artistic mind will understand what I’m talking about.
And I’ll survive until mom goes to work, once again, until bed time, until tomorrow, when the whole vicious cycle repeats itself for three more days until work starts for me. And then we’ll see, whether I gambled well, whether I chose the right career path, or whether I really do have to start over and train for two more years in another blind jab at it.