|Do I really want to be motivated?|
Some days, I wonder why the fuck I bother.
Yes, this is my personal blog and therefore I will be wont to use adult expressions of annoyance, because I am a grown up and that’s what I do. I have on several occasions chastised people for the use of language to make a point: you don’t need it to be funny, or indeed to reinforce anything. In this case, using that four letter word made me feel better, seeing the frustration in letters that I’d deliberately placed. Which is odd, because I can manage most days perfectly adequately without the need to swear or throw things or indeed make noises that would suggest I am disaffected. This is not one of them. Today I’ve watched people be deliberately provocative, destructive and annoying all in a medium I claim to attempt to make a living from, and the worst thing of all is that the game I’m supposed to be championing doesn’t even look like it’ll be on the table until the end of the year. I shouldn’t be surprised but I ALWAYS am, because I forget that my naive enthusiasm isn’t the default setting for the rest of the world. They’re the people making the money too, I’m just here on peanuts.
Really, explain to me again why I’m doing this.
|What are you doing, Dave?|
Of course, the reasoning behind why I continue to do this is very simple: I still ❤ it, even on days when it takes me three hours to pull together a piece to publish. The frustration is but a minor irritation in the General Scheme of Things: nobody dies, no wars start, the Universe continues unabated. This is the mantra I use to deal with my mood swings when they inevitably occur: it could be so much worse, and it undoubtedly never is. Therefore, sitting there and feeling sorry for myself is a largely fruitless exercise, and wallowing is wasting time I don’t ever have. That’s where music saves my life.
When music doesn’t work, you know things are particularly bad, but fortunately in recent years it’s never really gotten that desperate. So, when I ask myself why I’m doing this the music helps kick-start in my brain all the compliments I’ve received, all the encouraging noises from people who I know genuinely care about what I do. It helps me put the other crap in perspective, and ultimately allows my brain a chance to uncoil and relax, because ultimately it’s never about hating anything that much. It’s always a steady stream of irritation that builds to a point where I go BANG, and so the trick is to know when the ascent to explosion is about to occur and then simply a case of heading it off at the Pass with an Acme Diffusion Compilation. That reminds me, I must organise some more playlists for the Gym on the iPhone. This also reminds me I want something that isn’t an iPhone at some point so I can have SD cards full of music to take with me anywhere. Oh, the irritations of the music lover who has a love of Apple.
I can get myself into the Recovery Position now without help. I’m even able to see some of the accidents before they happen, having the ability to stick the brakes on before I cause myself too much damage. But sometimes, however hard I try, there’s no way to prevent the injury, because it’s out of my hands, and that’s probably the worst thing of all. The Control Freak in me can’t handle the startling truth that yes, sometimes there’s just nothing you can do, and it’s all about what happens afterwards that matters. It’s how you deal with the clean-up and the after-care and how many stages of Grief you decide to inflict on any poor unfortunate soul in your personal blast radius. Because, like it or not, there is a brief and brightly-burning moment when actually, it DOES matter to you what happens because you hurt and that’s horrible.
Then, you grow up and move on.
Of course, sometimes it’s not that simple, but this covers pretty much most hurt in the Internet Age. Understanding that, at least for me, has been quite the step forward.