Ch Ch Ch Changes

Yeah, it's been a while since I wrote anything. It hasn't been for a lack of opportunities or topics of discussion. I've just been avoiding this URL. Oh well. Enough of that.

It's been said that if you're standing still you're actually moving backwards, analogically speaking, of course. That being the case I guess you could also say that it takes movement and an exertion of effort just to stand still.

That's called tedium.

I'm really tired of tedium. I know I'm doing something; I'm working, earning my paycheck, I'm moving forward in time, assuming, of course, for the sake of this discussion that time is linear and non-local, but I haven't crossed a new milestone in ages.

Every day it's the same routine, the same processes, the same procedures, none of which serve to propel me toward my goal, whatever it may be.

I have a very bad tendency to overlook gradual progress, and if I take two steps forward followed by one step back all I see is that backwards momentum and I'm easily discouraged. Sometimes I just go ahead and choose discouragement over action because I know that I will suffer a recoil after making any strides.

That attitude has to change.

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Lately I've been experiencing a desire for a psychic spring cleaning of sorts. I'm not as easily distracted by typical forms of active or passive entertainment as I am by the thoughts that occupy my every waking moment.

As I've mentioned before I've spent more time thinking about guitars than playing them, and in the process have amassed an all but useless collection of them that basically sits untouched in the corner of my computer room. Now that I've brought this out in the open, to me at least, since I was just about the only one who was oblivious to my thought addiction, knowing that they're there has become somewhat of a disturbance. They represent the enormous percentage of my life that was wasted on a dream that I'm not quite sure was ever my own.

Even if the dream was mine at some point, it is way past its sell date now.

I'm actually annoyed at myself for still allowing myself to think about it at all.

I've started selling my guitars. I'm not sure how many I will sell, or if I'll even keep one at all, but I just want them out of my life, and definitely out of my mind. I'm tired of them being my sole identity, my personality facade, my socially protective wall. I'd like to know what life is like without some stupid pinpoint obsession. I've heard it can be quite liberating.

I'd also like to know what it's like to feel like I might have something to look forward to in the future, even if only the immediate one.

All I see right now is the work that goes into reaching anything that vaguely resembles a goal and I doubt that any potential success is worth the volume of effort that goes into its realization, especially when factoring in unknown variables that always seem to do just what it takes to screw things up.

Yeah, yeah, paradigm shift. Easier said than done.

The element of unpredictability is beyond enraging to me. Perhaps that's why I tend to latch on to these addictive childish dreams; to give myself some false sense of direction and purpose, a mental image of what I might be or do tomorrow, an identity, a hint, however slight, of certainty in an uncertain world. You would think that with all of my moving around I might have grown used to it all at some point, but I have never been able to adapt to my precarious existence.

Well, now that I'm aware of all that, I'd kinda like to put a stop to it.

I'd rather know the truth than live blinded by my own lies.

I've always thought I was a terrible liar, so I've pretty much stuck with the truth in all of my interpersonal dealings, but now I know that I am in fact a master of deception; I have deceived myself. I put on an act for myself and bought it hook, line, and sinker. Now I have no idea who or what I am, and I really don't trust myself enough to believe anything I may say or feel right now.

I'm going to try my best not to throw any babies out with the bath water, but sifting through all of my mental mess to find the real me is proving quite the challenge. All of the clutter has to go.

But is there really anyone in there?