Image above taken from Three Panel Soul.
Funny thing happened last weekend. It was a three day weekend, I had fun times, and even got a little creative work done. It seemed like a good balance of time spent for work and pleasure. And most interestingly, I didn’t think about my job once.
The trouble with that is, it made going back to work even worse. I remembered for one weekend what it was like to not have one of these shitty day jobs. I’m a few weeks from making it out of my probationary period and already I’m thinking about quitting. Of course, I can’t quit now. I just got a job three blocks from home.
That’s what I don’t understand, though. I’m doing the same job, around the corner from my house, yet I feel just about as tired as I felt when I was working in San Mateo.
It’s still a positive, this transfer to El Cerrito, I suppose. I’m certainly using less gasoline, spending less money. So why don’t I notice the two-to-four extra hours I’m not spending in rush hour traffic? Part of it is probably the overtime I have to take in this office, but that can’t account for all of it.
Maybe it’s because, while driving in those conditions was hellish, it was still me getting out in the world. I got to see the city every day, and usually the sunrise/sunset. I got to listen to music or podcasts for a good hour+ everyday. Now what do I do? Leisurely walk home and watch TV? Even with the best TV, that’s no good.
Tangentially, I could stand to do something to improve my health. I thought about trying swimming, but I tried that before. I tried ‘running,’ but a few shin splints here, a little sickness there, and how easy it becomes to abandon a routine.
How am I supposed to ever improve my health if the first steps cause crippling pain? The only way I can see it happening is if someone else pushes me, and at over 300 pounds, that’s hard to do. I know I’m not up to the task.
I subscribed to this service called MoviePass, and I’ve had it a few weeks now, but I haven’t used it yet!
Part of the problem is, Fuck You, It’s January. But part of it is, simply, I’m either too tired or too depressed to find the motivation to do anything. At least by myself…
A theme is emerging in all the things I’ve been writing about here. A non-committal to anything. I can’t commit to my job, can’t commit to my health, can’t even commit to a place to go for lunch. I feel frozen in this zone of non- motivation. Running on autopilot, or on fumes.
I need to figure these problems out…