For someone who is content to just write a fixed amount each day and rarely has to restrain themselves from going beyond it, I am remarkably impatient. Take the internet at home, I’ve been without broadband for 10 days and tomorrow it comes back on, yet I’ve been an agitated mess that entire time. True, that’s because my data coverage is, abysmal at the new place, so read ‘without broadband’ as ‘have to stand outside holding my phone above my head to have internet at all at times’ and it becomes more understandable. But if there’s one area I end up impatient at more than any other, it’s my recovery from, well, all THIS.
I know healing takes time. I know that even if on the grand scale I didn’t go through nearly the trauma a lot of people did these last close-to two years, but I did get messed up, and that takes time to work through. But it irks me because I want to get back to being the height of productivity again. That’s probably not a healthy goal anyway, symptomatic of workaholism more than any kind of ambition, especially because, well, I have no ambition. I’m quite happy working the same job the rest of my life with no recognition for my writing, I just want to be better at both those things. But it’s not just the productivity. I want to get back to feeling like I don’t have to expect the world to fall apart again at any moment. Rather childish when you think about it. After all plenty of people around the world live with the fear of far more than mild disruption looming over them. Still, this is the brain I gotta work with, and it needs fixin’ before I can get out of that self pity well I guess.
At least HOR is proving a lot of fun to write.
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