Fucked if I know.
The only times I’ve ever known what to do with mys2lf have been when I was in school.
School made things easy. What am I supposed to be doing? My school work. Other than that? Sweet fuck all.
School made leisure possible because it gave it something to contrast with.
Outside of that, I have faced the burden of days on my own. And at times that burden has come perilously close to crushing me.
Hence the video game addiction. Solved that problem.
What am I going to do? Play video games. Covers every waking moment in which I am not doing anything in particular.
And that’s most of them.
Of course, society’s helpful answer is that I should do “whatever I want”.
So what do I want?
Fucked if I know.
I have precious little experience with acting on my own volition.
Perhaps this is a byproduct of never having “played” like a normal child. I dunno.
Mostly I have just adapted to whatever circumstances I found myself in. And when those circumstances stopped changing, I had nothing to adapt to so I did the only other thing I knew how to do, namely entertain myself.
And that gets me through the day. But it’s not enough.
It’s nowhere NEAR enough.
The things I do really want to do – write for TV, become a Tiktok or YouTube star, try voice work, and so on – are all locked behind doors made of anxiety and fear and seem impossibly far away from where I am right now.
And in theory, I could be working towards any or all of those goals.
In practice, not so much .
This concrete straightjacket of mental illness that I live in won’t let me.
Now excuse me while I throw myself into playing video games until I forget that I am nothing more than a meat puppet for my mental illness.
More after the break.
Fru’s risky mission!
Well, risky by my timid standards, anyhow.
I had just heated up some of my beloved Meaty Marinara from Pizza Hut and brought it into the bedroom for my usual eating and blogging session (food in, words put) when I realized some terrible :
I had forgotten the salt.
This would not do. The pasta had arrived unpleasantly more al dente than usual and I had planned to use the salt to help compensate for that .
I thought about complaining to DoorDash but the pasta IS edible, just firmer than I prefer. And firmer than usual.
Hmm. Maybe I should have complained. Oh well, whatever.
So how was I to get the salt? I could have just rolled back out to the kitchen with the walker, but that seemed lame.
So I decided to skip the walker and walk out there unassisted.
This was not entirely impromptu. I had been thinking about testing how my legs are doing right now for a while now, and this seemed like a good opportunity to do so.
That doesn’t mean it wasn’t stupid, though. I am all alone in the apartment right now. If something had gone terribly wrong, there would have been nobody there to hear my cries for help.
But I wasn’t thinking about that at the time.
I 4hirsted for adventure, dammit!
Luckily all went well.. at first . And when realized I also didn’t have a spoon, I was tempted to do it again.
But I am real glad I didn’t because my legs are hurting bad enough right now from the one excursion that I am pretty sure a second one would have crippled me.
So how are my legs? Not good, man. Not good;
I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow .