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Wednesday, 30 September 2015

A Good Life?

A Good Life?

By
Alexander Gordon Jahans

So I'm in this weird space at the moment where it is both the best of times and the worst of times.

I have never felt so alone, I am living barely 5 meters from my abusive and manipulative father, I feel existentially fucked regarding my chances of getting a job moving out and doing the things normal people do. I am genuinely scared by the fact that I am increasingly unwell, what with needing stronger and stronger glasses for the cataracts in my eyes, the regular testosterone injections, the cortisol tablets twice a day and the constant blood tests and meeting with specialists. I don't know if I actually care about living any more and as we have established, I think I'm a monster for no adequately well thought out reason.

And yet,,, And yet...

I am writing every day, I have plenty of awesome podcasts and letsplays to watch, there are even awesome tv shows I want to watch but can't and I am walking every day and my diet feels like it hits some kind of balance between the need to feel full and the need to cut down and I have a internet brand based on honesty shamelessness and morality that has not as yet crumbled away into dust and is indeed genuinely getting quite good steady views.

I have somehow built a life that I enjoy and am proud of amidst a whirlwind of shit and it could disintegrate in an instant. One hurdle right now is that my sleeping pattern seems to have temporarily stabilised nocturnal and that's stopping me getting a bloodtest because the blasted hospital shuts at 5 but I have faith in my sleeping pattern's instability. I will be up for the blood test at some point.

I have only one big fear: That the hospital will find something. A tumor or a rare genetic defect or some bizarre disease that gives me a death sentence but even that doesn't really scare me. What scares me more is that I'm not sure part of me wouldn't prefer that to the insecurity of my current life.I like the oasis of creativity, nerd culture and exercise I have found for myself and I know that it cannot last so in a weird fucked up way it'd almost be a comfort to know it doesn't have to. 

Someday the oasis will fall, someday the scaffolding that holds it together will fail and this life will end and I doubt I will find something as good. At least not for a long while. I have felt tired for such a long time and I finally feel rested but there's still heck of a lot of mountain left to climb and I have no fucking idea left to climb it. I am a lazy nocturnal nerdy weirdo, how the fuck am I supposed to make it to 60? I need some kind of apprenticeship or trade but fuck that introduces a whole new field of existential angst on a global and generational scale. Which trade will last, which trade can I do, which trade won't see me in a worse situation? Hell if I fucking know.

But for now the oasis holds, this peace holds and I write and listen to Word Funk and Podquisition and the Revolutions podcast and watch Many A True Nrerd and Chuggaaconroy and Zisteau and on tv the Arrow, Flash and Doctor Who are there to keep the inspiration flowing.

The shit  I write may be the hugest pile of crap but it's fun and it helps me be me and so long as I don't charge for it, it doesn't really matter if its crap but I do think that it is getting better. There is definite improvement with regards to characterisation, descriptions and setting.

Most importantly though, every single day now I am walking up that damn hill for fun and I like it. The lazy arsehole is exercising for fun.

Christ this was a blog post inspired by the Word Funkers talking about how they deal with depression and almost think it's uplifting lol