Not really feeling the words right now, but fuck it, time to line up and fire.
Sweet dreams are made of this
I don’t consciously remember dreams any more. I haven’t in years. The most I get is tiny scraps that pop into my head when something triggers them, and I get a feeling of deja vu without actually remembering anything
Just the feeling that I dreamed something about it… sometime.
And I’d be lying if I said I didn’t know why.
There’s two reasons : the first is that remembering dreams is a victim of my constant struggle to stay connected to reality. At some point, on the subconscious level, I reacted to a blurring of the lines between the waking world and the dreaming by building an airtight wall between the two that pushed all the fluffy dream stuff out of my mind the moment I woke up.
That’s one reason. Seems plausible. Paints me in a good light. True….ish.
But there’s also the simple fact that due to bad sleep, I just plain don’t dream much. I am not getting nearly enough quality REM sleep and so there is not much dreaming for me to remember.
Sad but true.
I could fix that problem if I went back on the sleeping pill. But then I would have to reckon with the problem of it making it so hard to wake up.
And that makes me so damned mad. That selfsame hard determination to wake up and clear my mind gets very, very frustrated when the drug is making that so much harder, so I unconsciously go to war with the drug and fight it tooth and nail, and that is an extremely bad mental state for me to be in.
I end up waking up angry and stressed out and feeling like a shipwreck survivor that only barely made it to shore.
There has to be some way to get decent sleep without having to fight to be awake.
Maybe there’s some natural remedies that aren’t so fucking harsh.
I forgive me
I forgive myself for everything
I forgive myself for being born
For being unwanted and unplanned
For being an inconvenience
And hard to understand
I forgive myself for being different
And more than passing strange
Unearthly like a changeling
Who’s forgotten how to change
I forgive myself for being outcast
And unable to relate
I was born with magic in my eyes
I forgive myself for being raped
I forgive myself for being timid
And hiding deep within
Far too weak and broken
To save myself from anything
I forgive myself for hiding
From the world and from myself
From the damage and the terror
And from everything else
I forgive my inability
To ever fend for myself
The lack of toughness and agility
To ever even ask for help
And I forgive myself for writing poetry
When I had this to talk about
It’s not the format I intended
It’s just the way that it worked out
The state of my bowels
You read the title. You know what you’re in for.
Still, I will try to be as delicate as possible.
The dam broke earlier today. I must have been more backed up than rush hour traffic because I had two very large events in the space of an hour.
And I am very, very glad that after the first, I got up,wiped,and flushed before realizing I still had a lot more work to do because otherwise there would have been a very serious issue regarding room in the bowl.
Then, after Performance Number Two (aka the Second Movement), I sort of felt like I had to go yet again, but my stomach was still feeling pretty riled up from the previous events and I didn’t want to risk making it worse, plus…. sigh….
Plus I just didn’t wanna poop again. I was sick of (and from) it. Dumb,I know.
So I put it off, and now I am constipated and even more ill. Bravo. In fact, I had had to wait a long time before I could even think about ordering food.
(Very) patient readers will recall that when output ceases, the body wisely puts an immediate halt on all desire for input.
It’s not pleasant, but it’s smart.
:Luckily the waters from below have sufficiently receded for me to eat now. Phew!
I wouldn’t want to end up with constipation AND low blood sugar!
Output over quality
Still slightly weirded out by the fact that I ended up writing doggerel instead of my usual prose, but it fits with my new approach to creativity, which is “the important thing is that it comes out, not how it comes out. “
Meaning I am prioritizing output over quality.
Yeah, I know that sounds bad.
But I realized earlier today that the main reason I haven’t made any more videos is that I was worried about whether they would be good enough.
Would they meet my new, higher standards for production quality? Was I ready to take on the task of becoming a YouTuber? Did I think I was GOOD ENOUGH?
But you know what? That’s not how I operate. I don’t perfect things. I am not capable of it. When I try to hold on to things, i end up deleting them or hating them and sticking them in some forgotten subdirectory and trying my best to forget it happened.
I am not saying I will never get there. What I am saying is that I can’t afford to stifle my creative expression waiting for that to happen.
I would rather do like I did before, namely put out semi-decent but decidedly amateurish videos on a regular basis, each one a little better than the last.
Not sure I am ready to go back to making videos daily.
But I will make them regularly.
Perfectionism is my enemy. It can paralyze me without even trying.
I will stick with “good enough for now, I guess”-ism for the time being.
I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.