I was fully intending to fuck off the blog until next year, but kept thinking of things I want to say.  But I don’t want the post I leave standing in the sidebar to be a pro-AI one, because I’ll just be turning people away with it, so here I am with a post about random notions.  A check-in with where I am, looking ahead.

I’m still buzzing with some amount of this energy from the end of November, this sense that I should be writing, should be making stuff happen.  But that realization there’s no easy money to be made in the field, it casts a shadow over my ambition.  Doesn’t fade them completely because I want to make this narrative art happen for other reasons, but it does reduce the sense of urgency.

Somewhat.  I’m still coughing off this crappy disease that was brought into my household almost a month ago.  I took the entirety of last week off from work, tapped my leave pretty hard.  This puts me in mind of mortality.  There’s a Depeche Mode song I often think of, in moments of awareness that no amount of time is guaranteed to us.

I want to get all my best thoughts out before I die.  I did post a complete novel on here before, for what that’s worth.  It wasn’t a final draft, unless I die tomorrow.  I want to make more things happen.  I want to tell my stories.  But still.  Sometimes you have to just assume you’re going to live for decades, if you don’t want to waste all your time treading water.

Chores call to me.  There is some material reward at the end of that road.  Clear out the storage unit and save close to three-hundred bucks a month.  It won’t be easy.

But still.  What if I die in a month?  Wouldn’t it be better to spend every moment writing, or living / laughing / loving like there’s no tomorrow?  Must resist.  Gotta do that responsible people shit.  I gotta.

Do regular people feel like this, or is it mostly just me?

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