I had something very cool and emo and cathartic and poetic I was going to use for a title for this blog entry, but I’ve forgotten it.

So whatever. Moving on.

It’s Therapy Thursday. Talked about testosterone with Doctor Costin. He suggested that I ask my GP, Doctor Kelvin Chao, about getting my testosterone level checked, and I need to go back to him to tell him the antibiotics didn’t work anyhow, so I made an appointment for 2:15 pm next Tuesday and I will bring it up there.

I figure that the odds are pretty low that I have “low T”, as certain internet ads have discreetly dubbed it, and even if it is, I know that that human endocrine system is extremely complex and messing with it can backfire spectacularly, so I am not sure how keen I am in messing with it even if my level is a bit low.

But if it’s very low, I will go for it. If there’s a chance that a testosterone shot would chase these clouds away and let me feel warm and alive and happy, I have to go for it o matter what the risks are.

Cause something, somewhere has to give.

I can’t go on living this way. The days are fine – I can get through them fine. But only at the expense of my weeks, months, and years.

I want to do a lot more than merely survive the day. I want to make progress. I want to feel like I am getting somewhere.

I want to get some kind of life before I turn 50. If I turn 50.

I need another source of structure outside myself. The great thing about going to school was that all I had to do was catch the bus, metaphorically speaking. Once I was actually attending, the structure was provided for me and all I had to do was keep riding.

So I need something like that. And I am not as opposed to the idea of going back to school as I used to be.

But this time it would have to be for something practical and needed. Something with computers, probably, as I have the aptitude for that.

I’ve just lacked the interest. But I am sure I could learn to do system administration or something like that if I wanted to.

I am good with systems.

I don’t think I could be a programmer. My brain can work along those lines, but it really does not want to. It’s just too fussy and abstract for me.

And in a weird way, really depressing.

But I am pretty sure I could design software. I love design and I could see myself having the ability to design sleek and intuitive interfaces and work out the necessary logic in order to make things work how people naturally think they will work.

I would just need programmers to do the actual nuts and bolts programming for me.

Story of my life, really. That’s the problem with being a top-level thinker. You always need others to do the actual work.

Like being an architect. It’s a very difficult and demanding job and yet without a construction company, those blueprints are just a waste of paper.

Makes trying to be a literary writer seem more appealing. Sure, it’s a very tough racket to get into, but at least if I write a short story, I then have that short story.

It’s done, it’s finished, it’s a fait accompli. It doesn’t need others to execute it.

It might never get published, but at least it’s done.

More after the break.

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Let’s talk about this. I think it’s important. :

When I first encountered this sentiment, I instantly intuited how earth shattering and liberating it was, but I didn’t think it applied to me.

After all, I was a coaster, not a keener like my sister Catherine. High achievement was never a goal of mine. I didn’t sweat tests or labor long hours over assignments. I never ever tried to be perfect. I didn’t argue with teachers over a few percentage points on a test (well, not often). I didn’t suck up to my teachers,

And it would be nice to say that I didn’t do those things because of just how awesome and cool and ruggedly individualistic I am, but we all know that the real reason I didn’t do any of that was because I didn’t have to.

The high achievement came naturally to me. I have half-assed my way to straight A’s for my entire life. I barely broke a sweat.

So surely that meant that I didn’t need this warning about how dangerous a combination that perfectionism and depressions can make. Right?

But no, I need to hear this too, and as often as it takes for it to truly sink in, because one of the creative challenges I have faced is making peace with the fact that the finished product is never as good as the version in my mind.

That can stop a spiritually weak person like myself because it can convince us that there is no point in trying if all it leads to is disappointment.

\But no. Anything worth doing is worth doing badly. That is especially true in the creative fields because doing it badly is the only route to doing it well.

For me, that means just writing and writing every day without any thought as to whether it is good enough. Doesn’t matter. It is what I needed to write at that time on that day and that’s enough.

Plus, I know that every word I write makes me a better writer. Exercising and expanding the part of brain that turns thoughts and emotions into words is always worth doing.

And the better I get at it, the more fully and completely convey what is in my mind, my heart, and my soul, and the more liberated I become.

And one day, I swear, I will be free.

I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.