"Mental Filters"

by Dom B.
2002.03.11

I'm giving up and doing something that I thought I wouldn't, I'm writing a column about not having anything to write about. I'm writing this partly because this is the worst case of writer's block I've ever had, and partly because I'm so self-absorbed that I need the attention, that I need to tell you what's going on in my silly little life.

Well, ahem. Work is worse than it's ever been, and this was the new job that was supposed to fix some things. I don't need to bore you with the details, chances are I already have or definitely will soon, probably with beer.

I think I'm figuring some things out. And there's still other things that are confusing and scaring the hell out of me. I think I'm slowly seething, gaining emotional momentum, for whatever it is I'm trying to accomplish in the next year. Writing may not require pathos, but it helps.

I saw A.I. Wow, that bear freaks me out. Uh, I, uh, did some fun stuff this weekend. Cough.

Something's been bothering me lately. We're always planning for that point in an imaginary time in our lives somewhere down the road, where we do this or do that. A waypoint that we shoot for to get us through the day. A distant star we never reach, but whose light keeps coming to us through the mists.

I'm tired of it. I want it now, I need to do it now.

And it's really hard. I know discipline has many forms, and that it's something you develop, and that the biggest mistake beginners make is not understanding their craft before they jump into it. I'm trying to gain focus, working to have discipline, but I guess I've gotten soft, and wasting time is all too easy.

But I think I'm starting to find the nature of desire, and that if it can drive you crazy, it can at least give you a firm shove down the path you've always wanted to take. I'm still lazy, but at least I know what I want. And I might actually get there someday.