|The doodle on this particular document.|
I must produce something soon something soon. It feels like every obligation - from eating to laundry to friends to work - is a fishhook ripping at my skin as I try to walk forward. I am impatient for success but lazy in pursuit. This impatience, however, has not bred haste; rather it's only fed frustration, planting a seed around which other stresses have grown. Around which my waistline has grown.
What step should I take next? I can barely focus on the next ten minutes, relying on systems a more intellectually solid Simon set up to provide some semblance of a path forward. Part of me says sleep and masturbate. Life will go on without me and I can rejoin any time. I can most certainly get away with more shit than I give myself credit for and should start making bad decisions to take advantage of that fact.
So what's next? Work tomorrow, where I might actually earn my pay. N is coming over in the evening. All the guys are in for a bachelor party on Saturday, after which I might stay with N. Sunday might be a board game day. Monday is work. Tuesday is free, I think, though if I haven't by then, I must MUST record a podcast. Wednesday is work. Thursday is Coop. Friday is work. Such is my life - an easier schedule than most, yet I'm in the state I'm in.
- Money Math
- SEPTA Key