Friday Morning's Utilitarian Communication (Journal)

It's Friday morning and I don't feel like being nice. I'm stuck at work with nothing left to do but write. I don't feel like being open, doing recommendations or acknowledging people. So I guess I have nothing to do, but talk about myself. Since the last Fight Quest, I have not been well. Any kind of mental strain wears me down like a motherfucker, it's not even funny. Yesterday, I was in the subway, trying to read a little and the words were scrambling up in front of my eyes. I'm all about that "work yourself into the ground" mentality, but the ground is there now. If I'm too worn out to read, life is not fun anymore.

Describing where I'm at right now is not easy because nothing is accurate. It's one murky feeling rather than an accurate sight. Years ago, I have watched Pier Paolo Pasolini's Teorema. I had heard through the grapevine that Takashi Miike's Visitor Q was a rewriting on Pasolini's film and therefore I was interested in seeing a classier, more ambiguous version. I'm not going to spoil this great piece of cinema, but at the end, one of the characters (I forgot which) buries herself up in her tomb. It's a haunting image rather than a coherent story development, but it explains my situation I guess. I want to play dead. I don't want to die, but I want to stop talking, stop going out and stop meeting people for a while. My girlfriend, my appartment, my dog and my computer are all I need. My Playstation would have been handy in those droning moments. Killing polygons never get old.

I can write, but I can hardly think, theorize and plot. It's infuriating when you find the time to work, but your brain just doesn't want to cooperate. As soon as you put effort into it, the blur comes back. I know I'm burning out. My body and my mind are disconnecting alternately and I get very little done. The problem is that I'm caught up in those bullshit masculine cobwebs of "don't worry, I have the situation under control". I clearly don't. Every day, I'm stepping further into uncharted grounds and I don't know where the hell I am anymore. That's the thing with males. They can't face weakness. I think weakness is something that writers should embrace because it's what humanity is about. Perfection is attainable through imperfection.

I guess it's what I'm trying to do here. I was flying high for all summer, but it's time to try and land properly (landing being the Argentina trip in 10 days). I'm not even able to pinpoint where things went wrong. I know the show took a lot out of me, but it's afterwards that I entered that cerebral twilight zone i'm in right now. I'd say it has to do with me wanting so much for others and others not giving a damn. One way streets end up often in car crashes. The monetary retribution I got for the show was great, but my first concern is always the guys who fight. Maybe I'm yearning for acknowledgement too much. Maybe I need to take things with a smile.

That's where I'm lost. Every inch of success I had in my life was because I took things more seriously than everybody else. I'm already drowning in my cynicism, I need to shake some off. Learning to say "no" would also be a good idea. Selflessness will only get you so far. See, I'm repulsed by ideas of self-help books and by people who discourse for hours about how they work on themselves, well stress induced breakdown pushed me right up there.

So I should use that as a lesson...