My brain is adapting. And that’s fine. I’m … basically letting it problem and puzzle solve. I’m still not quite to terms with my job title. I feel like accounting tech just isn’t quite accurate. But I’m definitely in accounting. I just also dig in programs that are only tangentially related to the accounting part of the job. I like it. I like the boring repetitive stuff because it’s extremely satisfying when it all clicks and voila you can see the pretty picture and it works and people get paid (us, them, whichever, usually someone gets paid when all the things click into place). The part where I dig into stuff to try to figure out how it works is also useful and fun. So that’s nice.
I’m so tired and wrung out when I get home that I don’t know what I want. I get home, I get the mail, I do a few quick chores, I change clothes, I eat, I curl up on the couch and … everything sort of stutters and then hiccups and then tries to continue. I don’t often want to watch TV (the cable box is currently unplugged and the TV is off). I may or may not have energy to play with the cats (today I snuggled and play wrestled before/after putting their food out, but I haven’t gotten out any zippy toys yet tonight). I don’t feel like I have the energy to write (I’m making myself write a blog about not blogging in order to stretch this muscle). I sometimes get distracted and don’t finish small chores (I just remembered the sink is full of soapy water).
*ahem* The sink was full of soapy water. The kitchen is cleaner now.
But this illustrates my point. I will start things and then midway through a project I will remember another project that is either equal in priority or higher and veer off. I mostly manage to resist lower priority things if I’m the only one thinking of them. But my priority sorting does get a teeny bit suspect, as well. There are a number of projects that I should really do. At least one major project (with a few subsets) would result in day to day life being easier, I suspect. But it’s a big project, and my body will hurt if I do it, and my heart might hurt if I do it, and so I keep shoving it down the chain of prioritized tasks. On nights like today? Psh. That task flickers in on my radar only as an item I should feel guilty for not having finished months and months ago.
The advantage tonight to having the cable box off (and to my sweetheart refereeing a soccer match) is that there is one less distraction. One less thing to stop me from trying to do something marginally creative.
I don’t even remember now the path my brain took to get there, but I remembered this past Saturday with friends, when Font Folly teased Zork Fox about needing to write 1,000 words before he would accept his Skill Point distribution on his character sheet.* The point was, as we were all chattering in between doing other things and tinkering with our character sheets, setting up, locating dice, and making sure we had beverages accessible, was to just sit down and do the art thing. And sometimes, switching things up to be opposite or just slightly different from normal might help. But mostly, just actually sitting down and writing or drawing or whatever the task was. Just that act was enough to sort of get something out.
It might be crap. It might not be. It might not be what you really wanted to write or draw. I drew a portrait of a cute girl and a horse that day. The horse was on purpose. The girl was because I started moving the pencil and got a girl’s face. That happens a lot. Probably because one of my default doodles is an eye. I went on to try to work on a tattoo design of theater masks and it completely imploded. I stopped before I got too angry, because I wanted to enjoy the gaming. And I’d gotten two drawings out before I started failing at what I wanted to draw. So I’m still calling it a win.
And now, today, I’ve written just under 900 words. That’s not amazing. If I were writing a book though, and shooting for 1,000 words a day, I’d be at just under 90% of goal. So it’s not bad, either. I have to keep trying to maintain the positive outlook, and just keep doing. Art. Writing. Crochet. Whatever it is, I need to keep working the creative part of my brain; so that when the problem solving part is so exhausted that the rest has to compensate for it having had a dramatic faint in the drawing room of my skull, the creative bit can still come out and play a little bit.
*We were gaming. It was awesome. I hardly ever get to do that in person and it was so nice to see everyone and give and get hugs. Plus I dragged a sister along, which was equally excellent.
I mention over on my About Page (ummmm… click the About link in the bar above, depending on how you are browsing this, or go to: this link), I have blogs in a variety of places on the internet.
A couple of them are adult material. Those aren’t widely publicized. On the one hand, I’m not ashamed of them and I’d kind of like helpful critique on the writing. On the other hand, I don’t particularly want co-workers/employers reading them. (Who might see this blog, actually, but it’s wordy, so they might not actually read it.)
If I ever get what I consider to be good at writing, and decide to write a short story/novel, I’m pretty sure that sex scenes will come up. (I like to read alt history/paranormal fiction (sometimes with or without the romance label attached). I like character development and relationships. If I like reading it, I figure that’s what I’d write.) I’d like practice AND criticism regarding that. So as a sort of compromise, there are a handful of people I trust who know where those blogs reside. But I don’t ask for criticism often. So I’m considering either hooking them up to a twitter, or focusing them down to one blog and hooking THAT up to a twitter to get feedback from the anonymous ether.
But… then it’s anonymous. And anonymous tends to be … well, lacking in conscience. It cat calls, hits on, threatens, harasses, and is otherwise a jerk because it CAN be.
And so I’m stuck in an endless loop of not trying and being chicken about something that, while I’m not rabid about, I’d really like to do. And I think I’m decent at. I think if I practiced more, I’d actually be good at it, in fact. (Unlike dancing like Mitzi Gaynor, which I will never achieve, although watching a film last night, I remembered how as a kid I desperately wanted to move as gracefully as she and Ginger Rogers and so many other ladies who danced with Gene Kelly and Fred Astaire could move.)