Friday, 25 July 2014

But what if it's shit?

Caring about what other people think is obviously unavoidable in some contexts.

For example, it is your friend's birthday. She wants to go out on Saturday to celebrate.

If you said, "I don't care what YOU want to do. I think we should go to my place and mope", you are hardly exhibiting sporting behaviour.

That said, caring about what others think can hold you back a little bit. Or a lot.

At the moment, I am going through a design process. I have this idea that I'm exploring, and I have no clue if it is any good, or what will come of it, or who will care about it.

So I find myself asking people a lot of questions. Most of them are something along the lines of:

"But what if it's shit?"

The whole thing is such new territory to me, and I'm the kind of person who needs to be validated.

Perhaps I will just keep on enquiring as to whether or not my propositions are shit.

Having doubts in early states of big things is not that bad.

Anyway, I have the belief that my passion to get ideas off the ground will see me through chronic shitness.

It's just a matter of time. And I have lots of time.

Wednesday, 16 July 2014

What depression is like.

I think that depression is quite a unique thing.

Sometimes it's a bit like buying an ice-cream, and then dropping it on the ground.

I can be okay for a few days; start getting back on my feet again. I get my ice-cream, if you will. But then something happens, and this certain thing chokes my confidence and motivation. At this point, I have to try so hard and go so far, just to get back to square one. The ice-cream scoop never makes it back onto the cone without a fight, and even when it does, it's all dirty and crap-coated for some time.

So, I continue to pat cats and spend time outside in the sunshine. I think, I dream, I wonder. I do a lot of thinking by the way. I just think most of the time. Often about nothing much at all. But at least I'm thinking.

There are a lot of things that make me happy, and I am trying to do them. Giving myself permission to listen to exactly what it is that makes me happy is a recent development. It has occurred to me recently that I do this thing where I tell myself that I enjoy something, when it's actually the outcome or the appreciation that I'm digging.

I worry that I have spent a considerable chunk of my recent history doing things I thought I enjoyed, when perhaps I didn't.

Such a strange, eerie thought.

Sunday, 13 July 2014

Call me crazy.

This weekend I am feeling a bit all over the place.

It is amazing how confusing the act of living can be made, if you aren't quite on top of things in the way you once were.

I have these moments where I look at cars driving past, and I wonder where everyone is going.

I look at trees and feel thankful that they don't have thoughtful minds; for if they did, surely they would become quite upset over being rooted to one spot all the time.

I see shetland ponies tethered to fences, out in the cold without food and water. They are there so that children can have pony rides when they visit the park. Of course, all children need pony rides so that they can grow up into well-rounded, highly functional adults. So I'll keep telling myself this is all ok.

Wind seems colder than it was before. These days it's the kind that cuts through, even if you wear three jumpers. It still finds its way in.

Healthy people talk about their mundane jobs. They communicate their hatred of 2-hour restricted parking and the beastliness of telco companies. I sit quietly, pondering the true meaning of the systems and structures we know. We work so that we can live. We park because we drive, and we drive because we want to see places we can't reach on foot. We use phones to make essential contact with other people we know, or think we know. But phones are not absolutely essential. Not when I redefine essential, anyway. People could still find me, if they had to.

Friday, 4 July 2014

DediCATed post.

Haven't posted about the cats in a while.

Firstly, we took them to the vet about three weeks ago. Both felines are the picture of health according to the vet, except that Socks is about 20% overweight, and Poppet isn't far behind.

When I found that out, I was a bit shocked! Sure, they do look a bit portly, but nowhere near as much as the vet says.

Both cats are now on a diet. They hate it, just quietly. Well, not quietly, because they meow incessantly to let us know how woefully unjust the whole thing is.

Nevertheless, I expect to see marked changes in their energy levels quite soon. Socks actually told me that #cleaneating is working wonders for the condition of his fur. Poppet maintains that protein helps her keep fuller for longer.

They will be lining up for Zumba in no time.