Are You Scared Yet?

Yes. Yes I am.

Why?

Well, last night when I came home from work I was tired, and a bit irritable. Not because anything had gone wrong during the day, but because I just don’t feel like myself. I took a couple days off last week to try and come back better and stronger, but the illness which took me down, mild though it was, did a number on my stamina.

Now, as a disclaimer, I don’t have terrific stamina anyway. I bore easily and tire easily. But when I’m sick, I generally stay sick for about a month, more or less. I don’t think that will be the case here, but could I have taken two more days of bed rest and just relaxed until Monday of this week, I think I’d be pretty close to my old self. As it is, the slower recuperation has me exhausted by day’s end. Sometimes I drift off to sleep while waiting for dinner. Other times I’m just cranky.

Long story shortened a bit, I was tired last night. I wanted to fire off my latest complete chapter to the amazing and beautiful beta readers I left off my last dispersion, then get cracking on a retirement party invitation I need to work on ASAP for someone at work. The party’s in something like two weeks. I figured I’d put some ideas together and see who liked what, then shoot ’em out.

So I powered on my computer, and like always in a few moments it showed me the new, spiffy Windows 7 logo and indicated the system was loading.

After about six minutes I realized something had gone wrong.

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Quick Hit and Random Stuff

Nothing to say, really; just a little brain stew.

SSRLP is kickin’ my a$$. No two ways about it.

WIGSF has a really nice post today. Go check it out and get a smile on.

My beloved did her usual Tuesday Tootsie, so you can go see some strange and unique shoes if you’re a mind to. Remember they’re women’s shoes though.

I got some bad news on the employment front (or UNemployment front, I guess), so if you’re the praying type, we need all of that you can spare. And any money you can spare would be welcome too. (HA! Wacka wacka wacka! Insert rim-shot here.)

How ‘bout some poetry? Check out Jaymie’s blog or Danielle’s blog. Or go see Louise Dragon (Weezel) or Al Bruno III for some intriguing and unique stories. Linda did a nice little fun exercise a few days ago; you writers can check it out here.

Sorry, not much else going on today. A lot of worry and stress. A lot of graying hair. A lot of fear and panic.

How’s it by you?

-JDT-

 

All original content © 2009 DarcKnyt
ALL rights reserved.

Manning the Controls

View through the Glass Floor of the CN Tower i...

I have a confession to make.

But first, a little background.

Man, I love control.  I like to control situations, people, circumstances, the remote for the TV … anything.  Everything.  I love me some control, baby.  Whenever there’s a genuine, bona fide source of frustration in my life, I can probably trace it – if I put the effort into doing so – back to lack of control over something.  When I was younger, and in the middle of a separation from what would become my ex-wife, I went to pastoral counseling.  The man I counseled with told me that’s the primary reason people lose their temper, too – loss of control over something they want control over, be that a person, situation or object.  Car breaks down on the highway, makes you late for work, and what do you do?  Bang the steering wheel in frustration.  Doesn’t help the car, but makes you feel better, don’t it?  (Well, maybe not you, but certainly me.  Heh.)

I love control, yessirree.

But I have to confess something: I surrender a whole lot of control in my life.

Some things, I can’t control no matter how I try.  The weather.  Traffic.  Gas prices.  Rent.  The behavior and temperament of others … though sometimes I can have an influence on that.  Other things, I want to control, even if it’s not within my ability to at the moment.  When I have the chance, I’d like to take those bulls by the horns and steer ‘em.  My job situation, for one thing.  My income.  My living situation.   Those sorts of things I’m not able to change right now – haven’t been able to for years – but man, I’d really like to.

Still other things I can control, but don’t.  My weight.  Smoking.  My sleep patterns (especially now, when I’m out of work, and they’re completely wonky).  My language … I have a foul, foul mouth and despite being a writer, who should have a better arsenal of words to use, I just … don’t.

I surrender control in most of those areas because of laziness.  But sometimes, I surrender them because of fear.

I’m horribly acrophobic.  Can’t. Do. Heights.  Period.  I’ve tried to overcome it.  I’ve tried to confront it.  As I get older, it seems to be getting worse.  I surrender control there.  It stops me from going to amusement parks, hanging Christmas lights, taking a job as a painter, and tarring roofs.  I tried helping some friends paint their two-story farmhouse once years ago, and I couldn’t climb beyond the second scaffold platform.  I just couldn’t.  I’d lock up and not be able to move.  I couldn’t make myself climb.  I can’t be a line tech for the power company or do anything involving climbing to any significant height.  I just can’t do it.

But the control I surrender isn’t just limiting in some ways, it impacts my life in profound ways sometimes.  And it frustrates and angers me because I don’t like surrendering the control.

What about you?  What sorts of things are you frustrated by?  What things take control from you which you feel you should have?

-JDT-

All original content © 2009 DarcKnyt
ALL rights reserved.

A Writer’s Confession

I have a confession to make.

I don’t know whether you’ve noticed or not, but … I’m a little weird.

See, I’m sort of a set of dichotomies, opposites pulling on each other.

I’m sensitive and caring, but calloused and aloof. I’m intelligent and stupid. I’m capable and inept. I’m brave and cowardly. I’m a man of faith who doesn’t practice what most would think of as the religion I profess.

And I’m a writer who loves to be read and is afraid to be read.

Know what I mean? No, how could you.

Click here to find out why