God have mercy upon me.
I got the top of the range FitBit surge smart watch for my 40th birthday recently, and I am addicted. Pedometer, heartrate, distance travelled (by GPS), calories burned. It has inspired me to get out to reach the standard 10,000 steps goal. Today I walked down Lygon street. I repurchased Flanagans The Deep Road to the Far North, after selling it to the guy at The Red Wheelbarrow bookshop a while back. I have forgotten his name. They had a book launch last night. A local author’s book about Brunswick.
One of my parents complained I sold a book he wanted to read. I’ve got to do something special as he is in hospital for a hip replacement.
I went all the way to Tiamo 2, and had a second coffee.
I am going to stop right there. I don’t want to be one of those bloggers with Loghorea. It is funny how I am easily influenced by the critics. Does anyone else modify their behaviour frequently because of relevant messages in the media? Think strategically. Communicate strategically. Not every detail. It is boring. Find an angle.
I listened to podcasts as I walked. On Social work from Griffith University, and Philosopher’s Zone from Radio National ABC.
My fiancé told me the other night I reminded her of a guy she once kissed in first year uni who did arts and read philosophy. On our first date when I said I read, her pants caught fire. She assures me there is no old embers smouldering. He is married with kids now.
Each of my siblings married a divorcee, and now I am engaged to one. Anything can happen. Love can heal your life, but it is as ephemeral as the clouds.
The sleep monitor is one of the most interesting aspects of the FitBit. It tells me how long I was in bed, how long I slept, how many times I woke. I know exactly what time the catfight outside my window was, because the online dashboard tells me I woke at 1:19am. It is eerie.
What’s my angle? I keep having these fantasies about great stories or articals I am going to write, but I haven’t actually been doing much writing lately. Since semester finished I spent a few weeks handwriting ‘The morning pages’ as per instructed by J.Cameron’s The Artists Way, but I stopped a week ago, because I was getting RSI pain in my shoulder from gripping the pen. I don’t know of what my creative life consists anyway. I am not particularly pitching towards any specific artistic project, so the diary style record in the morning pages journalising I have been doing seems self indulgent.
There are moments when I tell my beloved a story about my life and it seems so self contained, themed and nicely rounded, I feel confident it is a great candidate for a short story, but they are all so hard to pin down with actual text. My mind squirms and warps with aspiration and ambition, and it seems my next big challenge as a human being might be to be more gentle with myself and relinquish some of my hopes, in order to better face reality. It is not the way the entrepreneurial facebook feeds would suggest as the way forward. Something I have learnt about the financial services and packages market is that there are real conditions necessary to put a business idea into practice, and those conditions are not really present in my life at the moment. If I want to make money, and I do, who doesn’t, then my best path at present is to complete my masters of social work, a more vocational degree than a BA in literature, and get a job. An income, any income, even a low income, is better than government benefits and family gifts.
Too much information. I always want to explain myself and end up sharing too much information. Who am I? Do I have a poor sense of self? A weak grasp on my identity? I don’t think so. My self esteem, or personal value might be a bit low, but I know who I am. To some extent. To a greater extent than many others who don’t feel compelled to overshare. A loose grasp on identity is not the problem. What is my angle? What is the thrust of what I am compelled to share?
I was super fit as a youth. The past ten years have seen a gradual slip in my fitness. I remain quite healthy, but overweight by about 10 kilo. As a youth I was right up at the top of fitness for my peer group. Elite amateur gymnastics. I had trouble transitioning into adult hood, and maintenance has been a struggle since then. I have many misgivings about a dystopian future. Scenarios in which my FitBit is misused by a secret governement agency, a malevolent corporation, or organised crime scare the hell out of me. But the world is filled with things that are terribly frightening, and we all have to weigh up the risk and the benefits. This new technological gadget with its intriguing data generating capacity inspires me to leave the house more often. That in itself is a win.
As the surrealist artist Dali once said, something like: I’ll take all the props I can get to hold me up and prevent collapse.
It’s not so bad though. At the moment, by beloved has become so integrated into my life, the phenomenon that comes with her of pushing the darkness back has created an extended period of illumination in my life and mood. Things seem to be improving. I am able to be optimistic without ignoring…
…without ignoring my deficits…. The worlds contradictions… my terror at my mortality.
Anyway, this is not a romance, nor proto nihilistic philosophy.