I’m thinking of, perhaps, changing the title of this particular section from “dailies” to something like “periodicals,” as I fail to update daily, in part because I feel so much (self-appointed) pressure to do so. In keeping with the oft-referenced idea that upon that which one focuses, one sees much, much more of, I tend to find that the more I intend to do daily (activities I see as both enjoyable, but also, regrettably, as gobblers of precious free time), the more I find to do daily. All obligation, no fun. And so the things I intend to do daily for fun end up becoming as obligatory as making my lunches daily and going to the dread J.O.B.
The dread job, the dread job. This is about the time, mid-way through my lazy Sunday, when I start to feel the frustration and depression that reaches its apex somewhere around 0730 Monday morning. Reduced to its simplest form, it’s anger at myself for forcing upon myself yet another week of the stress/boredom/tediousness combo by not having found anything else. Then it sort of spins back on itself for being angry and not doing near enough to remedy the situation… It’s the same magical internal tornado any number of people face in the job search, and in the search for the meaning of one’s life, I suppose.
It’s all too melodramatic to go into, isn’t it. But at the same time, mid-30s and where am I? Where are we all? I go back and forth on this, is there a point? Or no? I can’t make up my mind, and so I go from grandiose notions and life-changing decisions, back to “F#ck it, I’m gonna read a book.” But I’m not good at relaxing, so inevitably the intention to simply relax/watch a movie/read a book turns into a guilt trip that I’m wasting precious time. So I head back to some productivity book or self-help manifesto to try to make up for lost time, which leads to the inevitable resolution that I must ACCOMPLISH SOMETHING, and SOON! Ah, the wondrous monkey mind!
Both this year and last year, I have made the pursuit of happiness a goal, and so I think about this from time to time. A few years ago, I read the book Happy For No Reason by Marci Shimoff, and am re-reading it now. It would seem that all the stuff I try to fit in is intended for the purpose of getting to a point where I can be happy because I have attained a lifestyle conducive to happiness (work I love, great relationships), but it seems this is backward, as happiness just simply is irrespective of one’s conditions. It’s a state of mind, right here, right where you are. BUT. I get caught on this: how to be happy with the dread J.O.B. haunting me every day of every week? It seems impossible. And yet, I know from experience that when running away from one bad situation, it’s very easy to land in another, sometimes worse, situation. Again, change the mind, change the outcome.
Practice, practice, practice. I guess that often ends up being the point of one’s life, right? The continual effort to do better, to improve, to practice.