Four: They all know the steps

You know, as I get older, and these posts before less common, they are so much more urgent. I write them in times of distress and frustration, instead of every single night rain or shine. Makes me wonder, if someone were to read them, what you might think of me. Luckily, the fact that I still occasionally visit myself upon this blog seems to be a well-kept secret.

Back in the fall, I took a few days off just for myself, with no agenda. I was feeling tuckered out with work and needed a refresh, and also stressing, as I usually am, about how I never have time to write anymore. It's not that I wish I had time to write a whole novel or anything - that would require a major commitment I'm not prepared to make at this juncture. It's just that I feel so much more fulfilled when I am regularly putting words together, in any form. It is my release valve. And I put a lot of pressure on myself to get to a place where I can do that.

Back in fall, my break didn't get off to a hot start. Mel was sick so she came home early the first day. I had some selfish feelings about how this affected me. Personally, I think of myself as a very giving, caring person, who is mostly all too willing to do lots for other people, but it does weigh on me, and it causes me to be very defensive of times when I can snag a little "me" time. When I want something for myself - which I usually carry around secretly in my heart but there are times when I am especially steadfast in my desire - and I can't get it (which is a frustratingly high percentage of those few occasions) - I get very agitated. Eventually, for the ensuing two days, I recalibrated and had a good break.

This week has been my latest attempt to pull this trick. I had vacation days to use up before the end of March, but Mel's vacation days only go from the Calendar Year and she needs to save them for later in the year (when we're, you know, getting married.) I've been needing that release lately, pinballing all year so far, between wedding plans and other obligation. The world weighs heavily on my shoulders a lot of the time and getting even just a little oasis of time to myself would be a major refresh. Lately I've just felt so depressed about the state of the world, and sometimes that leads to dangerous or odd behaviour, or just generally being a mope with raw nerves.

Oddly, you would think this affect me most at work, but a good day at work can really make the difference. Even right up until the Monday before my vacation, I felt at the height of my powers, advising on key strategic directions, executing functions that kept the business functioning, keeping all the plates spinning and just generally feeling my oats. There are still a lot of times when I think to myself, 'I really don't know what I'm doing, I'm not good at this,' but those days are fewer and further between and the highs are getting higher. There's something very satisfying about sitting down and working through a frankly immense to-do list.

Which leads me to Tuesday - which thanks to the arcane way I was given vacation days, was to be a halfday. Only problem is, this week was fixing to be, due to outside factors, an extremely busy week in my corner of the business. Two of my big titles where I was waiting for stock were due to arrive while I was away on vacation. A few stores had made noise about needing this or that. There were long-term things to prepare for. I couldn't dump everything on Alina - as it was, I had a lot of notes to give her on the few things that would need to be done while I was away. I spent hours drilling through the various things I could action, ending up not leaving until 2 PM. "A full week's worth of work in just a day in a half" - I crowed, only slightly exaggerating my accomplishment - "How does he do it?" Of course, there were a few key items I had neglected or lost time for, which I ended up adding to Alina's pile, but by and large it was a killer day. I was able to ease into my vacation.

Yesterday, I walked Mel into work and hung around the Eaton Centre, getting a few things done. I spent the day balancing decently between things I needed to do and things I wanted to do, including putting up, I think, relatively impressive numbers on three separate writing projects - a BLTN Post, an Uncanny X-Cerpt post, and considerable progress on a short story/novella that, in my wildest dreams, I might put on Kindle for a buck ninety-nine (under a pseudonym, sorry.) It feels damn good to begin my modest, time-strapped vacation this way, doing exactly what I had hoped, and makes me feel like the pressure is off if I just goof around for the next two days (but it will be easier to keep the momentum going on this.)\

I feel good. Not perfect but good.

I am back at the Eaton Centre this morning to do a bit more browsing, maybe get some pants, hopefully avoid Indigo since I could squander an hour or more in there. but the fact that I've already written this in the time before stores are open puts me at ease. Now I feel like I can coast. but of course I won't... time's a wasting. Hurry boy she's waiting there for you.

Keep on rockin'
Scotto

Three: Counting on your hands... and knees

What would you do with a few hours to yourself?

I get so frustrated. All day long all I can do is think what I might be doing if I weren't at work, weren't cooking, weren't cuddling on the couch. Now disclaimer: without any of those things my life would be as unfulfilling as it was in 2013, 2014, times when I had lots of time and freedom and squandered it anyway, but you don't know what you've got till its gone. (At the time I had good reason to suspect I was going to be a single man working in retail forever.) I reflect fondly on times when I was able to focus at least - go to the mall on Sunday and spend all day hunched over my Netbook/Tablet writing what I hoped would be a masterpiece, the one thing I wanted to write, the thing I knew I could focus on. Progress occurred. I had a project.

Now my project is to read works from other people and talk about them to nobody for no reason. I do it for kicks, fitting it in when I can - ideally once per week but les lately. Today, Mel is out wedding dress shopping and I have the afternoon to myself. What do I do? I write my X-Cerpts often on weekends while Mel naps, or late in the evening while I stay awake when I should be asleep, or over my lunch break at work. I can get it done, or nearly done, in a short period of time.

This afternoon, I've already squandered hours mulling about with no agenda in particular, once Mel and her mom left the apartment. Well of course you need to ease into it. But what would I do if I could focus? I want to write something substantial - a novel, a script, whatever - but that requires more time than I have, more dedication than I can offer. But to do something I could be doing any ("any") other time feels like a waste. I have been doing some side-blogging, sometimes reviewing TV shows and movies, or other cultural items. A lot of it is just writing about my own life, and indeed I have a post, part one of three, drafted recollecting the circumstances around Half-Past Eight PM. I could keep going with that but it feels unrewarding to use my time with that at this juncture, to use it writing about myself - again, something I can, and do, do in the hours between Mel laying her head down at 9:30 (some nights) and my own submission of sleep (sometimes 11 PM, sometimes midnight.)

I had a funny-ish post idea examining the life and career of Pat Sajak - how can he possibly be fulfilled being the middleman between a wheel and Vanna White for 35 years - but then Alex Trebek got sick and it felt callous to pick on his longtime timeslot neighbor the same week. (The post would implicitly, or explicitly, refer to Alex as a model of doing something worthwhile, but that just depresses me right now.)

I have ideas for stories. I had an idea for a potential sword-and-sandal type fantasy book, even though that's not really a genre I'm interested in reading. That's been on my list for a while. I have an idea for a book about a washed-up rock star, that always excites me to think of, and then saddens me that I can't find time to. I have Melancholy, always, and was just thinking about how that world will live in my mind for the rest of my life probably. I can often muster up the latest entry in TPI - and if you know what that means, then keep it to yourself because you're actually not supposed to. I have lots of ideas for stories in a similar vein, and indeed prior to getting this job I thought I might have a future cranking them out for ebooks. The ideas don't go away. The urgency to write them does. So then when I sit down I hardly feel like I know where to start.

Well, this is something. Maybe a fun warmup. I'm sitting in Waterpark Place, much as I did for all those years at the mall, typing away. Ramping up to... something, I'm sure. What exactly, I do not know. Short stories? Feh. But I did recently start thinking about modifying some of my old ideas no that my perspective and experience has changed. You know I was always skittish then because much of what I wrote about was hypothetically. I'd never been with someone, never been in love, never had a relationship or a person I cared about, so I could hardly imagine it. Now, twist, I can, I have a wealth of experience to draw on, but invoking it almost feels like a hex.

I can do a little bit. Chip away at the stone. Maybe next year I'll be in a headspace to deal with it, but it seems unlikely. If I couldn't in 2018, why would I in 2020?

Is this all I will ever be?

We'll see, we'll see.

Keep on rockin'
Scotto Williams

Two: It is all different

It has certainly been an eventful winter. I first started contemplating this blog over a month ago in late January. We have been busy in wedding planning mode. I don't want to be the guy who completely sits out the wedding planning and puts it all on his bride. I want to mske my mark too and I feel that jointly we have a particular aesthetic I have a stake in. So I'm invested. I can help make choices. At the same time, working to plan any endeavour is not my jam. My stomach gets knotted up when I think of reaching oit to vendors, making appointments, planning various logistical things. It's one thing to say I like weddings and want mine to be good. It would be another if I actually enjoyed the work that goes into it.

I could tell you tales, but it all blurs together. In late Jan, on an insane cold night,we went to a food tasting to arrange our menu. We had built a mini vacation around it but sadly Mel's Great Uncle passed that same week so much of our planned relaxation time became allocated to funeral attendance. We did make up for it, seeing Amanda and later my brothers for impromptu stew.

Most of our weekends are busy woth wedding tasks, which is fine, I've learned to find my downtime where I can. I have posted a few things on my other blogs lately... X-Men recaps, memoirs of various recollections. I'm managing to branch out.

One weekend was Grandma's 90th birthday. She was in high spirits, which was great -- she's been doing much better these past few months since they realigned her medications. We saw some distant family we never connect with anymore. I had a xonversation with Uncle Bob whose content I immediately forgot. Dad came, his arrival anticipated like a celebrity. Mostly Mel and I stuck to people we knew.

I think about work. About my future. I'm in a good place for now but today was the first time I felt uneasy, as Jess and I discussed some future plans. Theres no issue, and I have a good working dynamic and she's always very positive, I just... I don't know. Today I really felt like work is just s pla e where I go, plunk down in a chair, enact a few processes that ostensibly help the business run, and listen to wrestling podcasts. I wait for lunch because maybe I'll find time to write or whatever.

I worry about next steps because the idea is develop, develop, but I'd still rather write. My mom is working from home doing recruiting for insurance companies. Easy enough she talked my brother into trying it despite it requiring him to take on a normal person's sleep schedule. I'm not saying I dream of quitting my job and doing that - although of it left me time to tey to write ot would be worth considering. I just don't know that the path I'm on is the right one. A far cry from a year ago when I still felt so lucky to have a desk job.

I'm in a good place, I don't need to blow up my spot just yet, but I sure am getting those late era retail vibes where it's like... what are we doing here? What else could we do?
Much else to tell. Megan's wedding - a debacle for sure but overall a fun time. When you're planning tour own wedding of course you compare what you think you're going to do against what other people do. (Fortunately only one wedding this year.) I was late and frazzled from touring Hamilton (both to the ceremony and reception.) I sat with Chrispy and Krista of course but also a nice couple named Tessa and (Tessa's fiance name here) who was eager to hear my tales and whose tales I was interested in hearing. Later we danced ourselves sick - Mel and I, not Tessa and Tessa's Fiance and I.

I've been letting Mel take me to the gym. Nobody wants to hear that the gym is not really my thing and that I steadfastly refuse to be a gym guy and that I could walk out and never come back and be fine with it. It's the truth. I do it for her and I try to enjoy it and give it my best. I hope she understands where I'm at with it. (I've been pretty open.)

There's always more I could be saying - lately I've had so many more ideas rolling around my head, more thoughts about my daily life, but we could be here all night and never get through it. Well that's not even true, I'm just writing this on my phone. Maybe someday I'll reread this post and something will shake loose and I'll reveal nes details, but for now you know whst you need to.

Keep on rockin
-Scotto