017: Lonely sayings

I don't know how I do it. Or why I do it. Or what I'm doing.

Okay, I borrowed that line from myself, but in my defense, I used it a long time ago, most have forgotten, and I still dig it.

I miss a lot of moments. I was reading old entries,a s I am apt to do (I've got plenty of em.) Sampling random moments from three years ago, Fall '08. Funny how some of those thoughts seem like they just occurred to me yesterday. Amanda and I used to talk and she'd say how perception of time speeds up as you age, and I dreaded knowing that was true and now here we are. I remember early in second year, that awful first day with seven straight hours of class, including a Film Theory class I was in no way set to handle. Eventually I did take Film Theory, and I dug it, with a different professor, after going through Lit theory, which prepared me for it. Things dovetail in University. Everything that rises must converge.

So I was reading these old entries and I wrote in detail about my day, about what happened that day and how I felt about it. Every minute irrelevant detail felt so fresh and clear, and I could put myself back in those days. And I guess that was the point.

Nowadays I don't anymore. Every individual day isn't worth talking about and I don't have the energy to sit down more often and write about it. I imagine putting more worthwhile creative pursuits first and letting SWP fall by the wayside, and yet I was much more creative when I did SWP more often. Output begets output.

Like today, I went to work. Lately, we've been on this weird thing where Trevor and I will come in in the morning, and then the deliveries will start coming and Trevor will receive them and Kyle will show up for four hours (which is a baffling notion in itself,) and then he'll be gone and Trevor won't be done the receiving and I'll be alone on the floor until the evening crew shows up. So I hardly interact with most of the other staff anymore, just Bev, Trevor and Kyle, then I have passing interactions with the others. This will change when the new Assistant Manager (the Assman) gets in next week, which will present its own issues, then we'll lose people and gain people and the circle of life will go on. Two years, I never thought two years. Believe me, believe me, there was a time not all that long ago when I thought my future tenure could be measured in weeks, not months. But let's face it. I've got some atrophying to do yet before I finally get it up to break free.

I went with Eric the other day as he handed out some resumes. He explained how badly he felt the need to recharge after his school experience, which didn't go as well as he'd liked. He spent the summer idling, but now is the time to get going and he knows it. I think he got some good leads, following many of the same paths as I did back when I had to look for work. I hope he gets something, if only because I'd be interested to see what happens when he works.

I was thinking the other day how comfortable I've gotten. This is a good and bad thing. One, it's unprecedented... I'm not stressing out over anything, not running from place to place, dividing my life, worrying about the future, it's mellowed me out. The other, however, is that it obviously breeds stagnation, an unhealthy sort of comfort. The other day dad asked what was new and I said, borderline contemptuously (with a hint of humour and a hint of truth,) nothing, like it would be absurd for something to be actually new with me right now. It was sort of a splash of cold water to myself.

But this period of peace, this interregnum... it's doing me some good.

I sense I will be moving back toward writing soon... maybe it's wishful thinking or maybe Iv need to bootstrap myself into motivation. But it keeps rolling around in my head and if I know me (and I almost do) I can't let that urge stay suppressed forever. Do I force it or wait for the time to feel "right" (if that ever happens?) Hurm. Stupid amateur writer dilemma. Stupid amateur writer.

Keep on rockin'
-Scotto