Reiterative Compromise

So many wonderful things I wish to do, and every one of them possible if I were not holding myself back. Don't ask me how that works. I compromise and make a short list that seems well within my grasp, but even that is a struggle. So I compromise again and do nothing. 

All the goals that I think of as creative are basically free, they only require effort and willpower and intention. And even those little things are beyond me most days. What a weak and flawed machine I am. 

It's Friday and overall I'm succumbing to the negativity that seems to surround me and I feel ground down into a state of inertia.

I'm even having trouble going through my routine. I feel weak and wanting to lay back and be entertained. I can tell. All of a sudden, all of the ads for Netflix programs seem very interesting and I know that on another day I would flip past them. 

I need to go back and organize my thoughts and write down some kind of coherent plan or list that I can refer to, over and over, to see if I'm moving. Like plotting a course on board a ship. Unless I take sightings periodically I can't tell whether I'm in motion. That is one use for this blog. I should refer to it and see if I've grown.

I can tell a lot about my state by the way I type. Some days my hands and fingers are stiff and they hurt when I type. Some days like today, they are stiff but painless. But today they are inaccurate. I am backspacing and correct overmuch. 

And then, and then there are those days when they are deadly accurate and as I type I see the words magically appear on the screen and there is no pain and I push them faster and still there are no mistakes and while I feel the burning in the tops of my forearms, there is no pain in my hands and my fingers feel like they're made of spring-loaded steel and capable of punching right through the keyboard.

But that's not today. Today my arms burn and my hands are pain-free, but my fingers are as clumsy as my mind. Today my fingers and mind are perfectly balanced, I stumble through my thoughts and mispell them handily.  Like a drunken cripple, whose gait is stumbling upon stumbling. 

How depressing. I should accomplish something so I have something to refer and point to. I'm off now to save myself.

More later,