Sometimes I have a little panic in the early hours of the morning. I’m fairly confident that it’s a relatively normal thing for people. I would imagine even my father gets them at times.
Basically the thought goes “Am I doing enough with my life?” and invariably the overwhelming emotion is negative. Emotion. Brass tacks though I’m doing okay but it’s difficult to argue that with a sleep deprived brain tired from working all day.
For example, I’ve spent so many years trying to find someone I can rely on who understands me and humbles me. With any luck that’s something I can tick off the list now.
Then there’s work. My business makes a profit, even if it is a small one at this stage. I could and probably should be pushing harder on that front but even with my current gearing it is ticking over reasonably well leaving plenty of time for other projects.
Creatively I’ve got two audio podcasts and a video one in the pipeline. Two have pilots the third needs more work. I’m also finally getting my teeth into programming, something that has plagued me since I was a teenager.
There’s also cooking and writing. I’m a better cook than I’ve ever been and by the looks of it I’m even making progress on my own cooking discipline (an attempt to make recipes legible to people like me). I’ve written a blog post for every day since December 12th. Sometimes I’m ahead and more often I’m behind, but I’m coming up on the last hundred days of this journey. Either way though, I’ve stuck to it.
Physically I’m also doing fairly well. I’m at a good weight, I’m eating more healthily, I’m going outside more, I’m sleeping better. Hell, I’m even reading an actual book!*
Full steam ahead for the doubt ship.
Looking back at old photos generates false nostalgia, or at least nostalgia for false happiness. During those times I can’t even remember what I ate most of the time. I must have had plenty of nosh by the weight on me but beyond that I’m fairly clueless.
It’s the little things like that which make me wonder how good a time that really was. I went to uni, played some video games, watched a lot of TV, filmed a podcast when we could coral the right people, edited it, and that was about it. There was a bit of drinking but nothing compared to what most seemed to be up to.
But the cap’n makes me think of all the gigs I didn’t go to, the comedy performances I could have seen, the parties I could have attended. Except, well, I did those things. For the most part they were less fun than hanging out with Matt talking about philosophy and video games. Gigs were actively boring, comedy performances were usually fairly sub-par, parties were awkward boredom fests full of smoke and noise.
But the Captain cares not.
What a dick.
*I used to read a lot but when I went to uni I fell out of the habit in a huge way. I’d read the new Pratchett book each year and that was about it.