First off, as usual, here is today’s video :
But the real news is that I have figured out the hard way that doing Therapy Thursday then recording and edit a video immediately thereafter is a bad idea.
You see, both activities are rather brain intensive and so doing them back to back really overloaded my poor circuits and has left me felt rather burnt out.
Lesson learned. From now on, I will either get my video generation done well before therapy or at least take a nap after therapy.
As you can tell, while I excised a lot of ums and ahs and stutters and so on, there’s still a lot of them in there too. That’s because at a certain point I just hit the wall and could not go on, so, ya got what ya got.
Even after a short nap I still feel burned out. i get the feeling I’m going to be a bit of a zombie for a while. Oh well.
One must suffer for art.
Speaking of excisions, I have been wondering if I am making too big a deal over my little stammers and hesitations and so on.
I mean, some of them have to go in order to make the whole talk run smoothly, but arguably snipping them all out makes things seem kind of artificial.
Or professional. I could go either way on that.
There is a charm and, more importantly, an honesty to raw video presented warts and all that is undeniable. I learned that during my time on TikTok.
I miss TikTok. I really enjoyed the directness of it and how it was a community of people speaking their minds without a lot of fancy bullshit getting in the way.
It made the whole thing seem kind of like a global conversation in a way that other social media sites never did, at least for me.
I suppose what I should be asking myself is, what exactly am I hoping to achieve with these videos? It’s not like I am looking to land a video editing gig or anything.
I just want to attract an audience. Build a following. Have people talking about my ideas and my comments and so on. Maybe make some money.
I want to be a pundit, basically.
I want to be listened to. I want people to pay attention to what I say so I can share some of the wisdom and insight I have accumulated over the years.
Or at least make them laugh, or smile, or feel a little better about the world.
While we still have one.
I know that I can really contribute to the world with my clarity and my communication skills and my passionate vision for the world.
But of course, I’d have to get out of this box I’m in first.
My living coffin.
I talked with Doc Costin about that today. About feeling like I’m dead and the link between that and my woefully underdeveloped id and how sometimes I think about the people like coaches and drill sergeants and gym teachers and what they were, in their meat-headed and inarticulate way, to teach me.
They were trying to wake me up to the real world, basically. The real, immediate, sensory world right in front of me, and the joy to be had in being an active and energetic participant in it.
It would have done me a lot of good to get out of my own head and spend some time just enjoying being alive on planet Earth instead of constantly being a million miles away on my own tiny frozen planet.
I still could use that. But the journey back home seems insurmountable.
I hope I make it there someday so I can remember what it’s like to be alive.
More after the break.
The real world
Never been a fan.
In fact, the conclusion my entire being took from my being raped as a toddler was that reality was bad and I had to escape it any way I could and have as little to do with it as I could (un) reasonably get away with.
This does not help one cope.
In fact, it has stunted my growth and isolated me from the very reality of the world around me and left me trapped in the extremely dangerous world between my ears where everything is a shadow of a reflection of a passing thought and there is no solid ground to rest on.
So all I can do is swim, swim, swim.
No wonder my mind is so restless.
And I know all this. I’ve said it here many times. I know that I need a radical rebalancing of my mind’s humors toward the real and immediate and away from the galaxy of distractions and abstractions in my head.
But the inward tide pulls me in the opposite direction and from my point of view right now I can’t imagine that changing.
I can’t go out there. I’d be exposed.
That’s what it boils down to on an animal level. I feel like if I try to leave my grotty little grotto of the mind, reality will then surround me and attack me like a pack of wolves and I will have no idea where the next attack will come from nor be able to evade it.
And I’ll be overwhelmed and, ultimately, destroyed.
Hence my hiding away from that mean ol’ real world for so long. I have this deep mistrust of reality’s good intentions. As crazy as it sounds, on that deep animal level where young children live, I really do feel like the world is out to get me. That it is completely and universally malign and the only safety lies in avoiding it.
That’s a stark and sobering thing to realize about oneself but I will keep coming back to it because that’s where my deepest and most crippling trauma and pain lies and every time I visit that particular vault, a little more of that pain is released and a little more of myself is restored.
It all always leads back to the rape.
But I guess that’s no surprise.
I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.