Morning Pages v.3000

I take solace in knowing 100% of artists, performers, writers, comedians, banjo players and hypnotists have been in the exact situation that I am in now. What sucks is knowing that every successful person has suffered in this sense, and that I am in no way out of that suffering. When I start to feel self-pity it leads to something like this, a somber self reflection and attempt at creative productivity. It’s really all the same stuff, now, with the rare exception that gets thrown out into the half-monster-half-internet portal for the world to view and judge and ignore. It’s a struggle, constantly shaming myself for missed opportunities while searching frantically for my bootstraps, with which I might pull myself up. It’s an expectation that feels like it comes from me, but is it really? It’s… my parents, no? Is there any such thing as truly intrinsic motivation, or have I been tricked into thinking a life of disciplined artistic endeavor is the one for me?

No, this has only been encouraged. There’s no point in time where either parent tried to push me towards comedy - just a true sense of purpose and passion. I think I found the right thing, but let’s be honest, it doesn’t feel that way all the time. It seems impossible to actually imagine a life for myself even a year from now. Living at home will do that to you, I suppose, but the workplace does me no favors either. Surrounded by regression, aggression, depression. Simple answers triumph over complex discussion, sounds familiar, no? Maybe our political landscape is the true root to my sporadic episodes of, well, sadness. It does me no favors to blame the powerful, overarching anxiety of this presidency, but I can’t bring myself to completely shut it out and focus on myself. That’s exactly what he wants. I have a true obligation to stay tuned, at the very least.

Maybe I need to volunteer or otherwise contribute to a political cause. Maybe that will lift this mysterious anchor from my proverbial ankle. The logistics of everyday life impede that, though, and right now I have a great opportunity at my fingertips - wasting that would be a painful regret no doubt. Maybe I need to start meditating again, yea, that’s worth a shot for sure. I am closing in on a great morning routine - but tuesdays have become a consistent disappointment in terms of health and productivity. I’m going to skip next monday’s tournaments and see how I feel. Man, what do I do?

This is hardly a letter of urgency, actually, it’s not a letter at all. Shit, maybe it is a letter. It looks like a letter. Nowadays I feel confident in myself and my work, in my progression and my future. The problem, I guess, is just inexperience. If I truly trust myself and the process, why do I feel anxiety now? Can I not place faith in my developing habits and semblance of talent? Can I bring myself to post this *~*truly*~* personal self reflection as opposed to producing a typical one - a truth-filtered concoction of boredom and caffeine. It would take guts, I give myself that.

There is value in these posts - both short and long term. That sentence is a lie, or at least the conviction behind it is. I have no idea if this post has any value at all, in any point in the future. It does have value in this exact moment, though. I have succeeded in curbing this weird, unorthodox, self-inflicted pain - at least temporarily. For the moment, I have absolutely no desire in slowing down or ending this post. I feel like I could go on forever. Maybe this is what I really needed, this exact thing right now is the most important thing in the universe.

You know, in a way I actually believe that. All we have is this moment, and all I have in this moment is a loud earful of Radiohead, dutifully drowning out the insane and indescribable distractions of my office, along with the words at my desk. --- Between that section and this sentence now, I was brought into a conversation with a coworker. It was pleasant, though, not the typical story of what goes on around here. I will never share that online, these stories are gifts so precious that I repeat them rarely, albeit powerfully, and only to close friends and family. If you are interested in some crazy office stories, I recommend you press me on how I’m liking my job. I promise it won’t disappoint.

I’ll be honest, this is really teetering on the edge of writings I post and do not post. Right now I’m not sure if these words will actually be read, a line I rarely cross, and for good reason. I don’t want my free writes to be subjected to the same scrutiny and inhibition as my deliberate attempts to open up to (Facebook) friends and family. Man, what the hell do I get myself into.

Screw it, I’ll post.

But I don’t want to stop, there’s a mild mania going on right now that I don’t want to quench - a result of my recent lack of expression. I’m going to pivot now, try to produce a piece of comedy and actually provide for the company that sponsored the last 45 minutes of my life. I hope to hide this forever from my coworkers, but, as with every piece of writing or content I put into the world, I know it’s a matter of time before it leaks out. Oh well.

Thank you for reading.

Sometimes, with these, my brain just spills.

There should be no thoughts before you start. Maybe an idea will cross your mind - scratch that, you will have plenty. Don't try to lock those down, you arn't prepared. The only thoughts worth saving come with a pen in your hand, keyboard at your fingertips, voice recorder turned on. These are my rules, the only thing that keeps me sane now. "It will come" I tell myself, "Don't worry about these." Now, just because I remind myself of these good habits doesn't mean I don't go crazy.

I'm still trying to figure out this exercise thing. They say your best thoughts come when your blood is moving.. makes sense to me. But how do I write them down? Do I stop? Hop off the bike, find a quiet corner, and start jotting down some nonsensical tangent about relationships? No, that doesn't work for me. If that works for anyone, please invite me to work out with you. I need to see that in action.

Those ideas are good, though. At least they seem good in the moment. There's some pain when they get away, slipping through my fingers like a melted tide pod. But, and I learned this the hard way, trying to preserve them for extended periods is impossible. It's like trying to save the tide pod by putting it in your mouth. You might still have it, but what are you really left with? A jumbled mess, liver damage, and a viral video. You decide if it's worth it.

Every time I write I try to start with the freshest thought that enters my mind at that precise moment. It's the only way to find honesty, I think. Is that the best way to product content? To further a career in comedy writing? Journaling is  frustratingly necessary for my mental health, another problem I learn the hard way. It's punishment usually pairs with some other problem, like a long drought of exercise or not drinking enough water. The urge to write comes more from avoiding pain than a search for pleasure, there's rarely a time where a blog post brings me massive joy. It all feels like avoiding regret as an older man, where I look back and think "Why didn't I express myself more? Why didn't I find my voice when I was younger?"

 You know what, It's not even an older man. It's for me 1 year from now. I want to make him proud, because he is my idol. It's cyclical logic, I know, and I probably lost some people just there, so for that I apologize. But isn't that cool way of thinking of things? I just came up with it now, go figure. (Actually, if we're being realistic, I probably just read this somewhere and it just came back to me. Come on subconscious, cite your sources!)

It's a cool idea. We are our harshest critics, and we are always looking for approval. Why don't we conflate these two insanely strong and primitive habits and search for the approval of our inner critic? The important part is giving yourself time to judge accurately, right? So we look ahead to ourselves in the future, three, six, twelve months ahead, and ask ourselves if we are making them proud. Will this need to be justified, or will it be relished? Am I on a hot streak or do I need to step it up? And then, when we look back at our actions, we must judge with intense scrutiny, but also love. Look as accurately as possible at how we were, but look at the context as well. This all seems like a good formula for self improvement, no? It does for me, at least.

The trickiest part is actually looking back and remembering what we did. That's where this journal comes in. It's entering my mind and bolting down everything I can find in there at that moment. It's chipping off the anxiety accumulating on my chest like barnacles to a docked ship. It's giving my future self, hopefully a role model for my present self, the opportunity to look back and learn.

That's why I write. I just hope it's enough.