Time Flies, Regardless of Fun Level

And so it's been a few months... time for a little cathartic whine.

I'd wanted to have at least one story finished and making the rounds by now... but I can barely open a Word document without cringing anymore, and my freewriting exercises turn into me yelling at myself to write something. And I know I need to stop doing that, but there's nothing else in my head right now but the yelling. That, and the escapist daydreaming I use to escape the yelling.

I'd wanted to get my website overhauled... but the inspiration well ran dry while I was trying to figure out HTML 5. I need to give the thing a nice facelift, or at least cut the deadweight I'm not maintaining.

I'd wanted to get some art projects finished... but between them fighting me and various demands on my time, I don't expect it'll ever happen. And I have projects coming up I need time and space for.

I'd wanted to make some manner of plan or headway for a future beyond slinging books, but education options are still prohibitively expensive, and my only other employment option is the retail trap.

I'd at least wanted to get away from the family for a little vacation... but then most of the state became a fire zone, the rest got damaged in a windstorm, and it turns out I couldn't have gone anyway because of car issues in the household. Even though I really, really need a break from my family, and they need a break from me.

Guess you really can't get what you want. Or even what you need...

 

Logically, I know I've done a few things.

I did the usual camp logos this year, which always makes me feel like I've accomplished something even though I really haven't.

For a while, I had a beta reader buddy, which counts as a bravery test.

I've taken several small day trips.

I've read many, many books... some of them even good ones.

That health issue - some tingling and weirdness in the feet and lower legs - seems to be mostly gone; the rest I'm pretty sure comes down to poor posture and standing for so long at work.

I got some nice new toys to play with.

And I shouldn't be complaining anyway because I have a job and a roof over my head and family and all that other stuff I know I'm taking for granted as a sheltered, spoiled rotten citizen of a First World country.

Still... is it so wrong to wish just one thing I wanted would go right? Or is the best I can ever hope for simply "I suppose it could be worse - and probably will be, soon enough"?