Disciplinarian

I'm trying to live a more disciplined life. (very zen) But sometimes it can be so hard to do stuff that makes me feel good. I guess because it takes a minimal amount of effort and commitment. And it's easy to shirk off responsibility, to justify fucking around online all day because why bother it won't do any good. It will; I have to remind myself this daily. And I'm sick of falling into the trap of laziness.

I began meditating to quiet my mind and calm my soul. I walk around the park nearby every day to stave off restlessness--though as I look out the window right now the sky is a slab of gray and it's raining. I knit, trying out new patterns for a blanket I'll make and when my hands are idle I tend to destroy my cuticles. I write because it's my favorite outlet for anxiety. I haven't chosen a book to read yet. I will--I want one that's heavy, one that will take me far away.

The core of all my tasks is that they eat up time and the days don't drag. And if I force myself to do them everyday I hope it becomes a routine, one that I look forward to and maybe can't live without. This of course will change once I find a job but for now I have an excess of free time that must be treated like a gift rather than a burden.

Mundane rhythms

Here I am again! 10 months have passed, I started a new job, I quit, I'm unemployed again. And I'm writing because well...read the past two posts and there you go. How boring! I'm so predictable. Ah well.

The job I recently left was at a craft brewery's beer hall. It was a glorified service industry job and I certainly learned a lot. I work well under pressure. I can multitask. I am efficient. I am a quick learner. I am every single tired and overused phrase on a bad resume but I promise it's all true.

My coworkers were great but it took me about 6 months to warm up to them and 3 months later I was gone. "We'll still see each other." Buh! Empty words. Sincere, mind you. But. Coworker friendships are vital but shaky; they're built on the foundation of, well, work. Duh. I wonder if I have the energy to maintain them now that the foundation's collapsed.

I can't remember the last day I haven't had a drink. Maybe that's bad. I think about it often and rationalize away my anxiety on the quick walk from my room to the fridge.

I stopped reading books when I started this job. Work exhausted me, mentally and physically. Dishing out a false, sticky kindness to undeserving strangers requires a Herculean amount of energy. Serving the unquenchable masses for 10+ hours takes its toll. Books were an unwanted commitment that commanded too much time and energy. I only wanted to read big text accompanied with bigger pictures. A nice and easy regression. Though now my days are, once again, big, wide, and open. No better way to procrastinate figuring my shit out than reading a book.