So, in the semi-working part of my vacation (mucking around with servers while the team is offline) I've also been trying to do some thinking, some writing, and have ended up re-reading a lot of my old shit. I have mixed emotions about this.

On the one hand, I've strung together some decent words. That's always nice to remember, and it makes me feel better about my currently fumbly half-blocked state as a writer.

On the other hand, even though I also keep a personal paper journal, reading your own blog is a little like reading your own diary. It's a little embarrassing, but that's to be expected. The worse part is that really slaps me in the face with how consistent my complaining has been. For years now, the same old song.

An easy answer to this is that I've been focusing on "my career," which is factually true, but it's an inductive dodge in terms of addressing the state of my personal life. There are more than enough hours in the day, even when you work as much as I do. I've worked harder and lived better in my day.

Living the dream requires... a dream.

Everybody keeps on talking about it
nobody's getting it done
Everybody keeps on pushing and shoving
nobody's got the guts

It's a damn hard thing to write/think through, the Gordian knot of your psyche. No end to the chicken/egging.