Don’t we all?

with a head full of nonsense I ran from the kitchen holding a mug and a sugar ring donut, which was falling to pieces all over the carpet, while I’m spilling coffee all over the floor.

I could have laughed when I realised.  Instead I cursed and threw words from my mouth.

I’ve spent the last few days trying to finish a post about Post Pop Depression.  On Thursday I figured it just needed a couple of pictures, which I took on Friday night.  Then, just before I hit publish, I did that proof reading thing… something I rarely do… and immediately I wanted to edit it.  Add and remove bits and pieces.  “what if that doesn’t make sense?  what if someone wants to know more…?”  None of it required, of course.  But the amendments were made.  Or at least started.  Now it’s unrecognisable and, largely, incoherent.

So it joins another sixteen draft posts.


And it’s got me thinking.  I have little or no direction here.  I never have done and while that’s not a bad thing, I’m not entirely happy with what I’m doing.  There are posts I’m happy with and posts that I’m not happy with.

Y’see, I write… I get distracted… I follow a thread and lose the other end.  It gets tangled.  I get frustrated untangling and it gets more tangled.  A big tangled mess of words.  So I bin it.  Or at least leave it with the intention to go back to it.  But I know I wont… and I never do.

Clean slate.  Start again.  I love this album… but I struggle to find the motivation to write and I struggle to write when I find the motivation.  Why can’t I articulate why I like Iggy Pop (or for anyone for that matter)?

I write too much… to a point that I delete stuff.  Or edit.  Again.

Delete.  Edit.  Start again.

Edit.  Delete.  Repeat.

To a point that it’s no longer cohesive.  Again.

It’s not passion.  It’s rambling.

I just can’t make sense of it.

Focus, Jim… focus.

I usually have about ten posts at any one time sitting in the drafts.  I currently have seventeen.  Seventeen.  Unfinishedly unfinished.  Not a phrase, but I’m the writer here and I’ll take it.

And that got me thinking about stuff.

I’m a husband and a father.  Also a friend.  I’ve been working in the same job for nearly 10 years and it has its moments.  I’m vinyl daft.  Music daft.  I also happen to, occasionally, write and sing songs (though I don’t really identify with that any more).  I sometimes feel anxious about stuff.  Daft stuff.  Stuff that really isn’t important: Like forgetting keys.  Or a phone charger.  Or dropping a fork.

Or writing the wrong thing.  The wrong date.  Or not posting the right video in the right place.

I have an anxiety disorder.

But that’s fine.

I worry about my kids.  My wife.  My friends.  Don’t we all?

I have friends I haven’t seen in months… or years.  I wish I had more time and that I made more effort to see people I give a damn about.  Again, don’t we all?  I also wish I got to the post office and posted that book or CD that I keep meaning to.

I wish I made different choices at times.  I wish I wasn’t so impulsive.  Saying things when I should perhaps just smile and nod.  Or not smile and nod and say something.  I try not to be impulsive or compulsive.  I’m not organised.  I can’t organise.  I need direction.  A nudge.  A rudder.

Though… sometimes I can organise.  So there.

I’m easily distracted.  Or a distraction.  Is it possible to be both?  I guess so.

I can obsess over things.  I discover something new and I need to know all about it / she / he / them right now.  Like nowNOW.  Even when it’s lights out.

I guess I’m a sucker for detail.  For sorting things.  Making sense of things.  But that takes up time, huh?  I could be doing other things when something’s really not all that important… so why do I need to do that now??

I pack information into zip files and store them in my head.

I can do the dishes in 20 minutes.

Or I can do the same amount of dishes but take over an hour.

I am slow.

I struggle to focus.  Always doing more than one thing at any time.  “I’ll just do this here while I wait for that there”… distracted… “oh, I forgot about that”.  Unless I’m given a nudge.  A steer.  Direction.

Not all the time, though.

I have four books that I want to read and I started all of them before I put them down cause that just wasn’t working out.  Focus, Jim.  Focus.

I perhaps expect too much of myself at times and, as a result, it disables rational thinking and I feel overwhelmed.

Perhaps I expect too much of others, too.

What am I saying?  I don’t really know.

But what I do know:

  • I love my family
  • I like music and I dig my modest record collection.  I listen to each of those records and I get to know them, too.  The sleeves and the grooves.  I like the listening ritual.  It takes time.  Care.  Attention.
  • My writing hasn’t gotten any better despite doing this for a while
  • I enjoy engaging with you folks
  • Sleep’s The Sciences is my album of the year so far
  • I also have less friends than social media suggests
  • I am currently obsessed with Earthless
  • I genuinely love Pacific Rim
  • David Lee Roth era Van Halen is amazing

Thanks for following, reading, and engaging here.  It’s appreciated.

And remember, an album, song, or artist doesn’t have to set the bar or be a game changer… but if they make you feel for a bit… feel anything… then we have a winner.  I mean, sometimes music isn’t just well crafted with lovely chords and words, but it takes me someplace else… it transcends being a sequence of notes of chords.  I love that.

Don’t we all?