I am on edge at present, discontent. I fear that all I write has become dull, which is a profoundly unsettling idea, for not only are my entries generally the work of many hours, I post more frequently these days than I ever have before. If I have become "boring," a quality which I dread, then what the hell is the point of all the effort and time I spend here? When I think about it, just how much of an improvement is "I went for a walk and here are the same old same old pictures" over "I brushed my teeth," anyway? No one wishes to hear of the daily activities, of the mundane occupations, but I currently feel that my life is somewhere in a no-man's land between boring and pointless and thus have little else to describe. If I am compelled to write but have bland material from which to work, what can I do to avoid getting any more snore-inspiring? Do I put too much into it, making it worse by giving it so many words?
An entry of stupidity which took ten minutes garnered three replies, while one that took an entire day or mentioned topics that bother me received zero. To some extent it is pointless to ponder this factoid, for I intend to continue in my ways. But if I overstay my verbal welcome mat, please tell me to shut up, or something. I once had to be encouraged to add adjectives, but perhaps nowadays I need to be told how to be concise. Don't let me turn into Robert Jordan!
I find myself struggling to re-convince myself that there is good in other people, that there is some heart in what we do.
I applied to a couple of positions in Second City the other day, but via an automated system, so I cannot address my paranoia that they are ignoring my application due to my present location (i.e., I cannot comfort myself by sending a follow up letter). I become overly anxious when thinking of the job-seeking process. It seems to reinforce my perception that no one is listening, or that my being fits into no niche. But then ... how much of my struggle in New City was me? How much was the job market? I fear the answer that I know to be true ... a majority of it was all my doing.
I am beginning to conclude that I am going to have to relearn how to drive/acquire an actual license/obtain a car, because I can see no other way to complete local interviews while working nearly forty hours a week. I find driving stressful and expensive, but public transportation makes short time frames impossible.
I feel as though "time" will run out on me, though I am not sure what defines the window, nor why I perceive it to be so narrow. I ask myself now: what is the point in letting this stress me? Time moves as it will, and neither my actions nor my self-created burdens will ever alter that.
What is it that I seek? Take it out of the abstract and back into the concrete.