016: They're just looking for inspiration

Inspiration. Yes, that's the name of the game, lately. I got a spurt of it yesterday and wrote a little short story over on Interneta (link... you oughtta know where.) I like it, I think it's funny and kinda pointed. Still, I seem to be having difficulty with motivation. That's a different matter, I think, all together.

I mean, there are a number of things I'd like to be working on right about now, but I can't convince myself I ought to. Bad Scott.

But really, bad? No, no, just misunderstood. I finally did today something that was supposed to be done weeks ago, but wasn't, much to my shame. Dad's been nagging me to get down to this Job Connect place over at Sheridan-Iroquois, and I resisted because, hey, can't I find my own job? Well, anybody who's been reading this blog will know the answer's no. Finally, I figured, I reached the last straw and went down there this morning.

It was a relatively painless procedure which amounts to some low-level bureaucracy. I fill out some forms and attach a resume, they do the rest. It's like Match.com for the out-of-work. Still, it's very official and formal. I'm not comfortable with that, nor their advice on interviewing tactics etc etc. It felt like Careers class... and I nearly failed careers class (which may, I suppose, explain why I'm usually unemployed.)

Still, though, it had to be done. Eric finished his school year last week and I realized yesterday that we're not going to be able to co-exist in the basement for all our waking hours. It's just not gonna work. This was made apparent to me when we got into the first fight of the summer, over the stupidest thing ever. Well, really, most of our fights are over the stupidest things ever. We rarely fight over important things. Those things are basically understood and hammered out, but it's little things that get us hot under our respective collars. This had to do with whether or not I'd be taking Brandon's computer when he gets a new one. I said I wasn't sure I'd like to (for a number of reasons that are important only to me.) Apparently he took offense to this (though why it should be any of his business I've no idea,) and when I tried to fight my way out of the obvious confrontation I'd somehow gotten myself into, he insisted I was making a too big a deal out of it (which is a tiresome argument we keep having about everything.) I don't know whether or not I was, but the fact that it would even get to that seems a pretty clear indication that a modicum of distance between us is required at least 6 hours a day, not including sleep.

It's sad. We get along and generally like one another, but we'll fight at the drop of a hat.

I was over at Chris F.'s yesterday night. Whilst in the restroom, I started flipping through this Dictionary of Idioms they've got in there (I like bathroom readers like that, and Uncle John's books,) and found that the origins of sayings like "all thumbs" and "air your dirty laundry" are... very much what you'd expect. ("We humans need our thumbs to use tools... but imagine if all your fingers were thumbs!" Uh... I thought that was implied.)

Rather than play Risk (as Chrisbrown was absent,) we watched Dark City. Most of it, anyway. It's a terrific film and I still recommend it. I don't know what Chris thought of it, and Patrick fell asleep.

"It's tired in here." Buster Bluth.

Rather more-than-sufficient blogging for today, I say. Hope all's well over there.

Keep on rockin'
-Scotto the Williams