There is a point where summer snaps and the drudgery of constant heat recedes overnight. That is the most exciting day of the year becauee it means fall has come, my most productive season. It seems cooler this week, just the lingering humidity makes it bothersome. If I wasn’t working so much I would be all around the house putting things in order.
Google Music is still a welcome service, this weekend I will get my gargantuan home rock collection integrated. I just wish server side it was a little smarter about using id3 tags and filenames for content management.
The key to unlocking potential is a clear, simple goal, coupled with the belief you cannot fail.
It’s time to tear down some convention.
So, the year moves on and another project at work swallows all traces of time. While 2010 was an artistic rennaissance for me, 2011 is a wash. For reasons I cannot fully grok, I have been pouring mind, body, and soul into work in and our of the office for practically the whole year. I am not quite sure what I have to show for it but advanced knowledge and skills in my profession, which oddly is supposed to be fifth on my list of priorities, but has been running close to second or first. Such is the nature of my ennui.
The project I am on now will mercifully be over in a month or so, but in the past where a small break was the only interlude before another big project’s start, this time I have four or five to look after. To be honest I am not really that concerned about it now, because regardless I have many plans for the fall. Raves, camping at Fuji Lakes, and a trip to Europe to say the least. As well as scrambling to get something artistic put together by December.
I will not go quietly into the third quarter, I’ve sacrificed enough already.
Today’s randomly chosen passage from the Buddhist scriptures:
“Of all the wordly passions, lust is the most intense. All other worldly passions seem to follow in its train.”
Music has a purpose than runs so deep you couldn’t dig it out with a thousand shovels. It leaves marks on your heart so deep you couldn’t scrub them off with a thousand brushes. It can be your companion, or your teacher; your drug or your daily bread. You can alienate those all around you, or bring them together tighter than spun gold. The music can create is well as destroy, die on the radio or live forever in the hearts of the believers.
What will you have it do with you?
Today I finally made back to the beach. Sunday is my day off, but the weather has been difficult to make it work. This mornig I slept in, but as soon as I woke up, just one word filled my mind: hot. And it was sunny, so I threw together all the beach essentials and barely made in time for the limited express to Fujisawa. I haven’t been down in Enoshima since last summer, when I was gathering photographs for my exhibition. There are so many words for this place, so many memories. Like an old lover you only have the chance to meet once in a long while, Ennoshima has surpassed the realm of precious memories and obtained a humanlike quality. To me Enoshima isn’t a place, it’s a living person.
More on that later, first beer and some low tech relaxing.
I have talked before about natsubate, which fortunately I seem to be immune to. The fact that I have beeb eating extremely well the last month does not hurt much either. I do however, get overloaded with thongs to do and kind of just get into a languid lull, from time to time. When you only have one day a week off outside of work it becomes even more difficult. My mentor Randy Pausch spoke well of time management, I have kept to the slides of his talk and try to keep priorities sorted, but it doesn’t help me plow through the doldrums of mental burnout. I am always looking for an antidote to that, and all I can ever come up with is to live healthier, and that will giveme the energy and drive to escape the sinkhole of guilt-filled inaction.
Maybe I can run tonight.
There comes a point where the mind can no longer deal with so many tasks, pressures, and concerns, and extraneous thought is all culled subconsciously. It’s no longer about winning, losing, or fighting, normal operation is put on hold to keep sanity together until the siege passes. This is the time where you experience the most memory loss during development. ‘Where did those weeks go? I don’t remember doing anything that season at all.’ You do not remember anything because there wasn’t anything worth remembering, you’re just a machine that replies to emails and ticks off tasks. I don’t know if this is what they call burnout, it’s probably just north of burnout, somewhere in the moors of primordial coping.
It’s a little bit like being on a mild depressant, novel at first in the unique perspective you gain temporarily– walking straight up, your focus drifting vapidly between objects in the mid to far distance. There is an odd sense of calm unbefitting of such a tragic erosion or one’s most precious resource, time.
Everything outside of work is sacred, and the slightest hint of compassion almost drives you to tears. It makes me wonder what kind of man I am to live like this.
To the artist I hope to find something beautiful and more significant than all the hours in and out of the office I spend worrying about that kind of nonsense.
To loving the rocking of a train, the dew that collects in the backs of my elbows, to some kind of magic always around me that I am too foolish to see. To finding some meaning and something truly worth investing in.