Nihiloptimism

I wrote in a recent review that I have difficulty balancing between anxiety and apathy. I either care too much or not enough. 

This manifests in my consumer habits. If I'm buying something for aesthetic or entertainment value, I tend toward apathy. Most art is great in one way or another, so variety drives my decisions. It's one reason Spotify is a guilty pleasure of mine: it's terrible for actually paying musicians, but amazing for discovering music I've never heard.

But when the subject is something closer to my heart---more sacred---I'm paralyzed with indecision and doubt. I spent over a year shopping for my last guitar. Same story for the laptop I'm using to write this. The more important it feels, the more easily I freeze. 

I see it as a trade-off. Leaning into apathy helps me make quick decisions and lowers my stress level. Favoring anxiety, or at least caution, is more productive for intensive research and long-term . I'm curious if this is the way most people operate and how aware they are of their tendencies. If anything, my description is likely an exaggerated version of the norm (which likely means I'm neurodivergent, overly self-critical, or a bit of both).

Writing is important to me, which is why I have so much difficulty publishing my work. Perfectionism takes over. Arranging words on the page has sparked my passion since I first learned how to do it. This blog is, in large part, an exercise in spontaneity. Even though I still analyze these posts too closely, I've made it a goal to publish regularly. I know it won't be perfect, but it will exist. 

In his book Uh Oh, Robert Fulgham, wrote (anecdotally) about the difference in attitude between Kindergarteners and college students with respect to creativity. When asked who could draw, every student in the younger cohort volunteered. What should I draw? A dog? With a fire hydrant? In the jungle? No problem. The undergrads hesitated, refused, or offered caveats: I can only draw trees. Faces are hard. My technique is sloppy. 

His point, I think, was that we learn to limit ourselves with social pressure, hypersensitivity, and pessimism as we age. This can trend the other way as well: overconfidence evolves into arrogance. Left unchecked, our self-judgment distorts to the extremes of grandeur or despair. At some point, the best option is to stop caring so much. Discard perfection for its much more valuable enemy: progress. 

I'd like to say I've perfected this technique. I've read over this post several times already, and I'm not truly satisfied. But I'm writing regularly, and habits matter most. Discovering the threshold for "good enough" is valuable in its own right. I'll figure out perfection later. In the meantime, publishing blog posts feels good.

On the privilege of watching the sun rise...

The last few mornings, I've been waking up early enough to watch the sunrise. It's always been one of my favorite natural spectacles, and my house is positioned such that I can view it directly from my kitchen. On a morning when it isn't frozen and snow-covered, I can enjoy the view from my deck as well. I live in a tri-level that sits slightly higher than the neighborhood to the east, and there are only a few trees in my line of sight. Plenty of space between 

This wasn't something I specifically planned, or was even considering, but I took a mental note when we first walked through the place. It didn't occur to me until much later that this is the first time I've had that privilege. 

Growing up, I lived in a fairly dense suburb. The best view of the sunrise was about a mile away on Town Hall Road. That wasn't too far, and I made the trek frequently in the summertime. But in the dead of winter, it was too cold and slippery, at least until I was old enough to drive. That's been the case most places I've lived since: too many houses, trees, or hills to have a clear view of the sunrise.

I don't think about it much, but I'm struck every time I wake up early enough to see it. It's magical.

Penciling life in...

I may have too many hobbies. Or maybe I'm just bad with time management?

I've been trying to keep momentum with Screw City Food Co-op business. It gets a lot easier when I don't let myself get too attached to specific outcomes. Recruitment has been dismal, and maybe that's okay. A core group of us have been working on smaller, more immediate projects that should help get us more name recognition and connections in the community.

Music has kept me busy lately. I've been either practicing covers or adding to collaborative work for at least an hour most evenings. My old band Go Nova has been working on some new material (though we might release it under the Cloudkill name)

Obviously, I have not kept up with writing several blog posts per week. That's probably okay. January was a test, and I can keep adjusting. Jotting down little ideas has had diminishing returns---it's not as satisfying after the first few. 

I've had an idea floating around in my head for a novel in the realistic fiction genre. Reading about the death of the Man of the Hole last year left a deep impression on me. He had lived by himself in the Brazilian Amazon rainforest since 1995, when the last of his indigenous tribe was killed by illegal miners. I imagine few have experienced that level of tragedy and isolation. For some reason it feels like something deserving of exploration.

Maybe I'll write more about that later. But my point is that even thinking more about writing, and engaging in the activity at least weekly, seems to be getting some wheels turning in my brain. Getting my thoughts down feels good, but exploring the thoughts of someone else might be an even greater boon.

So I guess things aren't so bad. I just need to focus and persevere.