In 2 BNE (Before Nine Eleven), Durst famously invented the idea of having "one of those days". The days in which we'll be talking about differ in such a way where it's on what it serves as a catalyst to. We're not ripping someone's head off OR breaking stuff; we're going to stay inside all day on the computer doing pretty much nothing of value and then, when the realization of what we just hits, we leave ourselves with an extremely familiar feeling of self-loathing and scorn for our consciousness by the time that the feeling of exhaustion becomes unbearable, just as you feel yourself switching back into some mode of productivity. As I've made apparent, this little effect has done what I can only describe irreperable damage on my consciousness, and I can't seem to find a way to remedy it particularly well at the moment, save for some rather "extreme" (in my terms) methods that I'm likely going to slowly incorporate as I proceed. The most I can do is cope, and the means of which differ in what I deem to be acceptable.
Sometimes I just let it be. When I have a day off or if it's a weekend, I definitely feel more inclined to take up this option no matter how paranoid I am about whatever work awaits me during the week. I just wish it could be inversely productive, though. That's to say that I devote most of that "wasted" time towards shit that would actually end up being somewhat helpful to me in the long term. Think: instead of browsing the internet or watching videos, I browse the Japanese internet and watch Japanese videos-- anime even-- while slowly fitting more time for reading into my schedule. My routine's always been off. My routine's always been off for pretty much everything I can fucking think of though, so that comes as no surprise.
Other times I get what I now perceive to be a harmful option, trying to force myself to be productive when my mind's clearly out of it at the moment. I try to work in spite of myself, but that motor simply isn't there. I can't get anything going-- anything with substantial momentum at least-- and that leads into a massive circular loop of frustration and more inaction. As stated in a prior i_ai_r Blogpost, this inaction is a complete zero sum between productivity and leisure. I can argue that there's absolutely nothing gained from any of this, but this is one of the most critical behavioral patterns I have to tackle one way or another. I imagine it as the final domino in a massive chain of dominos that get progressively larger. I know I've definitely pushed the first one in the chain, but now all of the rest have to fall over. Maybe the wind's blown one down. Maybe the tectonic plates got oiled up and started twerking on the DL and fucked everything up behind my back. I'm sure I'll know in af ew months time.
Rarely there comes times where I make things to do. I do my laundry and clean my room. I research niche topics at a surface level and never revisit them in spite of my expressed interest in them. Sometimes I do weird neck exercises and facial pilates in order to fix a condition I have where I'm completely unable to do normal things like swallow pills or vomit. Maybe I go for a walk. It's the walks in particular that are extremely enjoyable, the issue is just telling myself if I should and when I should. Especially at this time of year when the weather's rather nice. Not too hot, not too cold, not too humid, just enough clouds to cover up the sun most parts of the day, and the wind is still enough not to make you uneasy but enough to softly graze your skin as a mother would tending to her infant child. Sometimes there are half naked women outside and I'm scared of them facing ass-up on any lawns. It's not harrowing or indecent or whatever, I'm just gay.
Out of the three classes of things I've listed, it would be the second option that I would remove from my life definitively. The first and third can stay-- implying that my myriad diagnosises and their pettily debilitating effects stay with me forever, which they most likely will. Even then we're not made as well oiled machines who should be expected to lock in every 24 hours in the working day. If you should take 1-3 days of rest between an intensive run or weight-lifting session, who's to say that the same shouldn't apply to your mental as well? The issue in this case wouldn't be the act in itself, but rather that which would be low-intensity feeling helplessly rigorous and sending you spiraling at a time where you can't afford to lose time. I can prevent this spiral if I can provide ample focus, which I very obviously do not have often. I know it's in me though, and I have a rather extreme example of such working to my benefit.
In July I went on an a rather ambitious hike betwixt a gorge in Crete. It was hot, difficult, and there were Germans. No cell service too-- that's rather important in this case-- still not worse than fucking Germans though. This spanned about maybe 13km across different varieties of terrain and it took about 7-8 hours thanks to a plethora of factors. We arrived at dawn and were able to take a ferry back to civilization around dinnertime. In the moment I knew that was a damn long period of time, but it didn't really feel like it at all. Even with a phone attached to me, I lacked the compulsion to stare at a clock or even attempt to use it at all (save for a few photos I took) in order to "pass the time", however the hell I'd do that in the first place. My focus was elsewhere, and knowing that my focus was integral to that one task in particular made it all the more rewarding as I progressed. Sure, there were plenty of times where it was completely miserable. But get this: when it wasn't miserable, it was lowkey kinda fun. When the gorge's edges provided just enough shade for you to be able to seek refuge in as the streams flowed with possibly the purest water you could drink you learned to appreciate the small things and loathe Germans. It was as if, in that one moment in particular, I found myself in a completely different world than the one I had been leading 17 years prior. Logically, I never sought out that type of energy again. Until now, I hope.
I liken it to the same effect that one would get from reading, one that I've experienced firsthand having to begin to time myself as a result. You just become so enthralled with a task or something of that sort that time just flows by you as you engage further with it. It's not as if you're completely blind to it-- I'd argue I'm less blind to it while doing so-- you just can't gauge how much has passed. It's in those flow states where you get the most done in the least amount of time. Of course this requires focus and, with the information that I've provided in the previous paragraph about a situation where I have no contact with the outside world I'm sure you know where I'm going with this. My problem is that it's that god damn phone. I preach the evils of the attention economy and the homogenization of the modern internet yet I'm smack dab in it's maw. My only solution in the short term would be to lower my footprint on social media so I don't unintentionally fall into these traps in passing and slowly regain my ability to consistently focus. As fun as shitposting or airing out your thoughts on a public platform may be, there comes a time where you have to face the fact the posting always comes second to the incessant scrolling. One must aspire to minimize the scrolling, but it can't be contained outright. I've made the decision to delete social media on my phone and just occasionally glare at sports box scores every so often. I'll likely follow suit on desktop sometime soon, but I have faith that closing one vector will reduce the compulsive factor of the other.
I've taken damn near an hour of my time relatively uninterrupted to scheme up a plan to fix some of the most scrambled parts of my cognitive function induced by excessive Computer; the ability's still certainly there as I've said. Now it's all a matter of executing these plans. Not like you'd care anyways because these are all of my personal problems and I'm posting them publicly. I don't expect others to read them, and as a result I constantly ask myself: "why do you publish them anyways?". I think the idea that someone may be reading them gives me an ample motive to write (or even write with some semblance of quality) as to not make an ass of myself in front of my lovely followers. I doubt they're reading this anyways, so as a check of loyalty I am demanding anyone who's reading this to send me some sort of message anywhere that just reads as follows (without quotations): "I LOVE THE I_AI_R BLOG." The feedback on this will determine whether or not I will kill myself. I love you bro.
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