How many licks does it take to get to the center of an existential crisis?

I am a creature of habit.  I function best when I have routine and known outcomes… similar to a toddler, just taller with hair in more places.  Am I clinically OCD?  I don’t believe so… I can function quite well and am very flexible when need be… but certain activities seem very dependant on having those aforementioned routines in place.  Case in point… this blog.

Perhaps you have noticed that my activity on the blog has come to a screeching halt… there are reasons for this… some are practical reasons, others are more of the “I am my own worst enemy” type.  First, allow me to get into the practical reasons.

Time, or a lack thereof, has become my enemy.  I have often written my posts at home in the evenings when my wife and kids have gone to bed… but honestly, that can be tough for no other reason than the fact that I am dead tired at that point… I’m an eight hour a night sort of fellow.

Another time for me to get anything written is immediately when I get home from work… and for whatever reason, my girls have decided that the computer is theirs and theirs alone.  I need to lay down some new laws.  Not to mention needing to do dishes, pick up crap the kids have strewn throughout the house, make dinner and attempt to have conversations with my wife or the girls.

The other time I enjoy pumping out the shorter more timely posts such as a “Coming Soon” or “DVD of the Week” is on my breaks at work.  When I quit smoking four and a half years ago I found myself in a wee quandary… what do people do on breaks when not going outside to smoke?  I found writing to be the answer for me.  I don’t want to talk with anyone… I want time alone… not for reasons of misanthropy or dislike of any persons… simply because of my first reason for my lack of activity, time.  I am currently in an existence that does not afford me much time to myself, so I cherish any bit of life I can carve out to call my own.  What does any of this have to do with my writing for Mr. Blahg?  My workplace has cut all internet accessibility as well as banning cell phones (mind you, I am not complaining about this change in policy, just noting it as a factor.  I have a very strict rule regarding what I will and won’t write about, and bitching about my job falls into the category of “won’t write about”… I never know who may or may not be reading this)… and now my breaks are spent either feeling like I need to be doing something and the attendant anxiety that comes with that or ducking outside with my iPad in the hopes of reading a bit of news or being able to write a post on that (which so far I can’t seem to do).  Frustrating.

Those are the more practical “When can I actually get anything written?” reasons behind why I have been silent.  The other reasons are the difficult ones to broach.  Why am I so set in my ways?  Why can’t I just tell everyone I’m going in the back room and to leave me alone?  Why can’t I write on the iPad?  Why do I seem to have the best ideas for something either when I’m working, driving or in the shower?  And most frustrating of all to me… why haven’t I been able to record more than two podcasts?!

I’m sure the answers to all of those questions have a pseudo psychological explanation regarding some degree of OCD or insecurity or some other reason for my ineffectual behavior… I think I can possibly chock it up to feeling overwhelmed at times with life.  I am certain that I’m not alone in occasionally feeling like I can’t take anymore and just want to run away.  When I was younger I would take off on a long drive… as I got a bit older I would strap on a backpack and head into the wilds… now, I can’t take off.  I have responsibilities… dependants… a career… so I mentally take off.  But the mental vacation can be equally as frustrating and difficult if it causes aspects of my life to wither and die on the vine, and a happy median must be struck.  Where is that median to be found?  Have I found it?  Am I coming out of this funk?  This depression?  This period of frustration and self doubt?  Is it simply another ebb in the tidal flow that is our hormonal make up?

I’ve always subscribed to the thought that we all have our ups and downs and that happiness is a gift to be cherished because suffering and sadness are always around the next corner… but I also subscribe to the idea that we make our happiness happen, and in order to find it we have to go through some shit.  Two sides of the same coin really… I ready to make it happen again.

Welcome me back,
Cornelius J. Blahg

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