Delusions wrap my mind this morning. The idea that I can write for a living is making me think that I should spend a few hours every morning doing so before I head out the door to make the long trudge through the snow to painfully causing my hand’s permanent damage in a world where the air hurts my face. There is a pint at the end of all this, but I need to buy it myself.
There is purpose is this – something inside that belongs to me and just me. I am a grown adult and I can do whatever I want. I just need to be willing to accept the consequences. For now, I am going to spend a few hours writing before I trudge through the snow for a small penance because it makes me happy and it is good for my mental well-being. This is a good plan because otherwise, I am alone with my thoughts and unable to function for the rest of the day. These peaceful recreations of love make me better with time. I want to help people learn about the nature of happiness, the reality of mental illness and that peaceful thought that functions with the people of light.
A part of me wants to disassociate and think that I am an enlightened being of some sort. That is always a good time, though I need to be able to deal with the consequences. For example, without the work that I have the opportunity to do (sometimes called “wage-slavery”), I would be without a home and the comforts of my life, things like food and electricity. By disassociating I can be happy in this moment and feel like I am some incredible genius of light and love, which is sometimes a good thing that helps me feel worthwhile. The trouble with that is the eventual lack of money that comes with these thoughts made of ether and delirium.
I don’t know if the others fight the need to go work for wages without repercussions. It is strange that I still have this opportunity right now, I suppose it is because I haven’t fallen behind in the work and the time until the crops begin to grow again is not yet up. It is coming, but we will be okay. Currently, we seem to be in good shape and it is cold and snowy out there right now.
I am ashamed by the lack of work-ethic that I have sometimes, but then I realize that I am always working on my own projects. These are things that I find much more interesting and important in my life and I hope one day they begin to pay off for me. Avant-garde music and inane ramblings are not everyone’s idea of important work, but for some reason, I am called to do this stuff. One should always listen to their calling.
Whatever the reasons are, I am wondering about the point of these rather painful trials in my life. Work life should not need to be this kind of suffering. That is why I am spending these few hours in the morning before I go to work writing and making interesting arguments to myself about the reasons that I spend my time doing these things. I would much rather spend my time doing what I am right now, but that is not always the best thing to do with your time. I must be willing to take on the consequences of these actions. I feel that I am. I just don’t know why anyone would want to read this.
That is depression. It is something that I fall into between times of intense happiness and the manic creation of art. This is my experience, but I wish I was more like that guy who just stopped by my house. He is a good worker and likes to do what he does. I am a prolific writer and artist by any account and well-respected in my local area. People seem to like me. I do need to remind myself of these things daily because the realistic people are all at work.
What do you call a musician without a spouse? Homeless. In truth, I blame the recording machine for the reality that I cannot be a full-time musician. Before recordings, every restaurant and bar needed a musician because people want to be entertained. Now, there are very few musicians who make enough money to get by and far too many bands come to town and play for a couple of barflies.
This is a depressing note to look at. I am in a beautiful life right now and I can literally do anything that I would like to do in the world. I could get a credit card and run up some insane amount of debt this very instant. I could get some heroin and eat a bunch of pills if I knew where to get those things. Actually, I don’t know if the dealers would sell to me since I look a little too clean around the edges. Where there is a will there is a way, of course. I could call one of my friends that know where to get that stuff and ask him to pick it up. That isn’t what I want to do with my day, but the point is that I could. I am not willing to deal with the consequences.
With this note, I understand that I spending my life doing the right things. Even if I only make it out to the vineyard contract I am currently supposed to be working on for a few hours this afternoon, that is my prerogative. I want to do good with my time here. As those hippies in the Grateful Dead say, “Such a short time to be here and a long time to be gone.” I feel like these words and sounds I am sending into the internet are making more of an impact than my efforts in the field do. I know that one day it will all be worthwhile.