Slow and Fast Progress

My life has been full of progress lately. I’m not complaining at all, but as I’ve stated before, I’m a creature of habits, ruts, and grooves. Progress is not a bad thing, but sometimes I wish it could be at a more reasonable pace. Of course, as soon as I wish that, things stall (or I stall them) and I regret it. However, this feels different, and I’m scared, but I couldn’t be happier about it.

I’ve mentioned hating my job and where I live. I hate my lack of writing progress. I want to get out, but certain things have prevented me from doing so. I’m so hunkered down against the bullshit of my work that writing becomes a chore and all I want to do is lay around and space out — something remarkably close to depression. However, I’m good enough to do something about all this now. Something clicked this week and I booked a flight and a hotel to go visit my desired state and check it out. I have made significant progress in both life and my writing. So, I’ll spill it here.



First, there’s the obvious of needing to get up and go see the place to check it out.

Second, I have never been on a plane. Well, once when I was 10 months old. It goes without saying that I don’t remember it.

Third, I had been waiting for someone to go with me for this very reason — to walk me through everything. Also, who wants to go on vacation alone?

Fourth, I had no plan. Do I look for a job over the weekend-and-a-day I’ll be there? Do I just check it out and eat too much? Do I look for apartments? I got practical and said yes to all…if it happens. The apartment and job will be secondary, as this is a scouting trip.

Fifth, I was afraid of the freedom. Sounds stupid, but think about it. When you go on vacation, you pop yourself out of your rut. It’s a step back and away. Things come into perspective…but you have to return. Unless a miracle happens and I get a job and an apartment in a single weekend, I will have to come back. It will be likeactually walking into that light at the end of the tunnel only to have to return to the sewage depths of my current situation. It could be dangerous. I’m likely to care less and take less shit. I already am dangerously low on fucks left to give, but I need my job. For now.



First, it has been s-l-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-w.

Second, my mind is a stereotypical male. It had a few mental orgasms and it thinks it has done all the work it needs to and has gone to hibernate.

Third, all the stresses have caused me to have lucid, horrid dreams when I sleep so I feel like I get no rest.

Fourth, work has been painful. I can’t concentrate. I’m riding high on a wave of bile. I have been getting headaches (from stress, no doubt). One was so bad that I had to leave work for the day. I got home and slept for 7 hours, woke up, had dinner, and went right back to sleep. Between no good sleep and the headaches, I feel like I get no rest and can barely form a sentence.

Fifth, I was debating stopping this project and doing another short story for an anthology. Seriously. You know that thing I ALWAYS do that pisses me off and defeats me? That thing where I give up and move on to something else? I almost did that. Yeah, not today, bitch-brain. I rejected that idea in favor of my original idea.

Sixth, since all that has started to clear up, production, progress, and the happiness associated with those things have picked up. I’m reading, writing, and am celebrating every sentence I create. I haven’t kicked into the groove yet, but I will. I can feel it.

Seventh, I listened to a fantastic, wonderful, gruesome, awful, amazing novel for the second or third time, and it was just right. This novel I’m writing is more gruesome and visceral than the last, mostly because of the main characters. And this novel I listened to was exactly the flavor I needed. The novel? Why, it was Perfume: The Story of a Murderer by Patrick Suskind. The movie, which is all but impossible to find (unless you buy it streaming on Amazon), stars Ben Whitshaw, Dustin Hoffman, Rachel Hurd-Wood, and the late (great) Alan Rickman. It was exactly what I needed to spur me on. The novel is a classic and is one of those sensory experiences that makes you read it and think, “If only I could be half this good…” If you’re a Nirvana fan, Kurt Cobain was said to carry the book in his pocket, identified with the alienation of the main character, and the song “Scentless Apprentice” was inspired by the novel.


And that’s where it all stands. It’s all progress, some leaps, some crawls, and some revolting little slitherings. But I’ll take it where I can get it. Pretty soon, I will sprint. Maybe I need a vacation. *cackle*


~ by Darren Endymion on March 24, 2016.

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