No constraints. No limits. The only difference between my present and my ideal future is the amount of effort and patience that I've used.
I'm working at Zia Records. I've wanted to work there since the first time that I ever laid my eyes on the store's interior; I'm guessing that I was around 13 years old, but I might have been closer to 15. I just remember walking in there and being assaulted by so much music that I stumbled around in awe, and decided that I'd work there in the future. Fortunately, I did not forget this thought, and when I had an opportunity to jump on employment there, I did. The best part? I have left work with a smile every single day.
I'm beginning to create a sense of discipline in myself. Having to keep a schedule, unsurprisingly, is helping me stick to the plans that I write out. It's not foolproof, of course, but I'm keeping more of my momentum and losing less to laziness. I found an 11 week discipline journal through my friend Perry; it is giving me a numerical representation of who I'd like to be. That is to say, having mapped out what my "ideal" self would complete within a nearly perfect day, I can then measure myself against what I'd wish to become. It's somewhat difficult for me, because I'd like to hold myself to high standards, and it stings knowing that after I have finished a day, my ideal has stayed so far ahead of me. However, the reverse of this is taking in the knowledge of my self discovery as far as bad faith goes- knowing that I'm not performing to the best of my ability is helping me to strive towards that goal.
Lately, I've been feeling particularly lonely. I've been working a lot, with next to no internet connectivity AND no phone. So while I can socialize at work, it is much more difficult to organize anything after work. I guess it's not really a /i/bad/i/ thing, seeing as though I feel more self reliant when I'm alone (fitting in well with my goal of self discipline), but it's starting to feel as though (forgive how whiny this sounds?) there's nobody paying attention to me. More often than not, I'm alone to my thoughts and whatever task I'm participating in. It's striking to me, really, because for my entire life I've felt like there has been a spotlight on me, with almost all of my elders investing time in my existence, and now… I'm the only one that really has anything to do with it. I'm responsible for how I use my time, and it can either help me or hinder me.
So I planned out my 11 Week goals with that in mind. I've got responsibility and desire, and I have to battle my desire in order to raise myself up to the needs of my responsibilities. Obviously, guitar is the most important thing, so I broke that up into "physical practice" and "mental practice". I've spent a lot of time focusing on the physical side of guitar playing, so I've lowered the amount of points that I get for doing that and raised the amount from mental practice. Beyond that, I'm deciding to work on various things that I have wanted to be active in. I'm aiming to actually brush my teeth, to work out regularly, to cook new meals, and to raise my general level of activity around my apartment. In essence, I'm using these goals as a guide towards what I would consider "adulthood".
It's complicated, though. At this point in my life, this responsibility isn't going to leave me. In the past, my sense of duty has come and gone, swaying with the events of whatever my current predicament has been, but now! Now it's a matter of my entire future. I've never felt so much pressure to perform at my best. I can't give my future self the struggle of knowing that my past was all in vain. I want to look back, years in the future, and know that all of the shit that carved me into who I am was actually worth the carving. To know that I am worth something and there's a reason that I wasn't able to kill myself. I can look towards these things with the strictness of my philosophical beliefs, or I can dissect it into my personal symbolism, the "shadow" of my being as Jung would call it; between my yin and yang, I'm finding out what is actually worth my time.
I read my tarot cards, today. I've never really shared them with anybody before, and I am not planning on sharing them, either. It has been a very long time since I've pulled them out; I only answer my questions with them when they call to me. In this case, it's because I've been dreaming about people that I haven't met. I'm watching the bricks to my future fall into place, my cobblestone path slowing developing before me. So in a way, I feel like I needed to read my cards as a tether to this transient and ambiguous greater reality. I can't say that it's truth or the future or anything beyond the probability of which cards find me, but I also cannot deny the intuitive essence, the spiritual resonance, that I feel when my cards are in my hands. I inherited my tarot decks when my mother passed, and in a way, I feel like they are how my mother can share her voice with me again. Imagination, spirituality, and fate; no matter what they are in reality, my experience of them is inherently valuable- to me.
I'm terrified of the hurdles in front of me. I can't afford to stop and quit.
So I'll keep walking forward. Hopefully the bricks will keep being laid in front of me.
If not, I think I'll have to place them there myself.
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