I’ve been looking for apartments, and it’s been frustrating. This is because of: 1. Time constraints (I need to be out by the end of the month and I have limited time to look); 2. Money constraints (I rely on loans and I’m trying to keep my debt down, even though it really can’t get any worse at this point); 3. Consequences of money constraints (cheap apartments are cheap for a reason – the last one I looked at had hilly floors and smelled like despair). Today I was sure I was gonna get this place, a nice studio in a nice part of town with reasonable rent. I think I told someone I was gonna get it for sure, and that probably jinxed it because of course I didn’t get it. So now I’m frustrated.
Usually, I refrain from writing (or doing anything productive) when I’m frustrated, because I know it will taint whatever I produce. Today, I’m inspired by frustration to write. I just don’t know what else to do at the moment. Right now continuing to look for places is the last thing I want to do, and yet logically it’s the only thing I should be doing. So this is a word picture of me frustrated. A snapshot of frustration.
If this thing happened in a vacuum, then I’d be fine. It’s only irritating because it’s concurrent with other worries, things like work stress, classwork, needing to pack, etc. Plus, I’m pretty sure that I screwed up in a few ways that caused me to lose the place and that exacerbates it. Should I not find an apartment by June 1st, my “Plan B” is to move my stuff into a storage unit and live at the YMCA. Thinking about that definitely doesn’t help.
I started to think/write about how I pull myself out of it, but I realized that doing that amount of informative writing would be frustrating in itself. In a nutshell: I make some tea, make a to-do list, do absolutely nothing for half an hour, then get to work on something on that to-do list.
Alright, I feel a little better now. Everything’s gonna be OK. I’m off to make some tea.
I realize I’ve been doing this blog thing all wrong. I set out initially to just speak my mind and practice writing. Problem is, I have trouble doing both at the same time. I’ve found that speaking my mind is a lot harder when I’m writing. Speaking is all about trying to get your thoughts out in a clear and concise way. Writing, I have more time to edit the thought before sharing. I can endlessly ponder and analyze that thought, trying to find the perfect way to express it. As I’m doing that, I think of ten ways to expand on that thought. This results in the simplest things taking for-freaking-ever. I’ve spent over half an hour just on this paragraph. Whatever I’m trying to say, it gets hijacked by the perfectionist in me, and the natural flow just gets lost; by the time I’m finally satisfied with a thought or statement, I’ve lost my train of thought.
What I’ve been doing wrong is letting the perfectionist run the show. While I’m trying to express a thought, I get caught up trying to make everything perfect, and it’s incredibly frustrating. It never comes out perfect anyway, because at some point I just say “fuck it!” and go do other things. Then I either publish the half-perfect monstrosity or I stash it away as a draft. By the number of posts, you can probably tell that I take the second option 99% of the time.
You see, this post here, it was supposed to be off-the-cuff, just straight concise thoughts as I would speak them. This blog here, it’s supposed to alleviate frustration, rather than add to it. I have not accomplished these things. So what I’m going to do is get the substance of the post down first, then go back and edit it. Yes, English teachers, you win. After 18-odd years, this most basic principle of writing has finally pierced my thick skull. Your efforts were not in vain.
Ok, that’s pretty much it. Writing about the process of writing makes my brain hurt. Time to go do other things.
My last post was about five months ago. Since then, I started and finished my 4th semester of law school. I was miserable and stressed out for that whole time. I’ve got a week and a half until summer school starts. I’m gonna spend that time sitting on my ass and doing absolutely nothing.
Except not really. I have to find a new place before the end of the month. Somewhere that’s closer to the train and farther from Chicago’s unending street gang vendettas. Once that’s sorted out though, hopefully I can get some time to relax. Maybe then I’ll be inspired to write something substantive. Until then, dear reader, take care of yourself and enjoy the spring.