Happy New Year, shithead.
I’m writing this in spite of the fact that I have had neither the motivation nor the desire to do any writing. The intense lows I have been experiencing are an indicator of a person who has once again failed to adapt to his situation. I have multiple layers of unfamiliarity to contend with, too. Living in a foreign country where most people don’t want you there is merely the surface problem, if you can believe it. I’m still left to navigate a job market that seems to want everyone but me, marriage to a woman whose customs and habits are often still unfamiliar and frustrating, and now the stress of a child that is about to enter the world under my care. I’ve balanced it all to the best of my ability, but it’s no easy task when I always end up feeling unnoticed, disregarded, and unfulfilled.
I’m not saying I need the world to go easy on me; I’m saying I need something to fucking do. Ever since I quit my job over two years ago, I have dabbled in just about everything my imagination could conjure up, and all with little to no success. I never thought that my main enemy in all of this would be fucking boredom. I don’t do well holding still. That’s why I built a pond and a garden. In fact, I’d be outside building another section if I hadn’t used up all my materials. It might be a vanity project (and a bit of a money pit), but at least it has measurable fucking results.
But make no mistake; I don’t wish I did anything any differently. If I were not afforded this stretch of time to feel low and sorry for myself, I would not have been given the chance to re-calibrate my thinking and look at my life in a more serious way. If I were immediately successful in any of the things I attempted to pursue, I would have remained immature and careless. Not that I believe I’m all grown up and will make a perfect adult from here on out, but I do believe that now that I have experienced the bottom, I will operate with a little more care in the future. Money doesn’t buy you a clue, nor does it do anything at all to promote reflection or advance maturation.
Besides, I have a house with everything I need. This period of thinking and planning and regrouping has all been made much less miserable by the fact that my home base is comfortable and spacious. I’ve wanted for nothing and have done my best to remind myself of that fact any time the self-pity gets too strong. Furthermore, I have been afforded the opportunity to focus on my health, and it certainly shows. I’m wearing my age much better these days, and I look forward to even greater strides once I extricate myself and my family from this godawful pollution.
So here is the point in the letter where I once again put a bow on the discussion. I’m actually surprised that something came out when I sat down to write, so now I’m feeling a little better about it all. Between this little activity and the three or four loads of laundry I will be doing before day’s end, I can feel a little bit better about playing video games and reading all day.
But the bow… yes, let’s get this bullshit over with.
Blah, blah, blah… what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. Do unto others. Brush your greens and eat your teeth. Don’t count your chickens before they leap. In the name of the Sanford, the Son, and the Smells Like Teen Spirit.