Crisis of Faith

I was thinking, the other day, about how you can get to a place where you think you’re doing really well and you’re happy with yourself, but then something hits you and you get brought down again. That’s what’s happened today. I won’t say quite what, because I’ll deal with it. It will get dealt with before I let it take me down again (reminds me of a song called Bring Me Down by Sia. If only my life had a background soundtrack like a movie does). It’s days like this when I wish I had people around me that would give me a hug and just tell me that it will be alright and that I can do it.

Anyway, enough of the self-deprecation. I meant to write when I got in, but I haven’t gotten anything done. After my drop in self confidence, I decided to have a nap to get rid of my tiredness. The good news is that I’m not tired any more. The bad news is that I didn’t get any writing done. I didn’t get any editing done either, which, I suppose, would come under the category of writing except that I mean them in regards to two different areas so please bear with me. I need to continue editing Dark Side of the Moon and then I need to finish off writing the two last chapters of Secrets/Spilling Secrets. The latter has started off really well and I’m really pleased with it. I just need to finish it off, but that will get done soon enough. Part of me wants to really concentrate on getting Dark Side of the Moon edited and done so that I can send it off, but, at the same time, the part of me that spiralled down into feeling as if I am totally useless is saying something about how there’s probably no point in sending it to a literary agent anyway.

Don’t get me wrong, I will, but sometimes everything just feels bitterly futile. Sometimes the fact that we’ve made our world so bleak and so hard for people to follow their dreams really gets me down. It’s the same about people’s concern with money. If I had my way, I’d be back in the days when we all lived in small groups in the wild and the highest esteemed people in our societies were the leader of the group and the storytellers. At least then I would seem to have some purpose. I’d really like to know what my purpose is, because part of me thinks that the whole purpose of life is to enjoy it. The rest of me knows that as a civilisation, we have mostly destroyed our chances of enjoying life. The world and all the people in it have far too many worries.

I also want to include this which I wrote in response to my friend’s facebook status about an essay she has to write:

In relation to your anaesthetics thing, your essay should be: “Anaesthetics are weird. Checkoslovakian dentists think they’re actually lost Russian princesses that they’re injecting into your mouth. Other people think they are stupid devices that make you dribble and generally look like you’ve had a stroke*. Anaesthetics are also not something that should be used to cause hilarity… no matter how much I would like to steal some from a dentist, inject my dad in the arm before he wakes and watch him panic thinking he has had a stroke/migraine**. Anaesthetics should not be used as weapons of revenge for sufferers of severe migraines. Furthermore, no matter how much you hate needles and dentists, anaesthetic is not to be used on dentists who are trying to inject you to remove a tooth etc. Kicking the dentist in the face still does not mean you can use his/her own anaesthetic on them.

The stance on doctors using anaesthetics are different. If the doctor was Joseph Byrne from Holby City then he could get his OCD hands on me any time, whether it be an anaesthetic he was inserting or-

But I digress. 

Anaesthetics are just generally bad… Uh… Thank you. 

*Strokes are not Russian princesses either.

**It would serve him right for every time he has made out that my paralysing migraines are not a big deal.

P-S

If you want to mark Susie highly on this essay then a bag of money will be waiting at an undisclosed location. Give her the highest mark and it is yours. Just attach your bank details to her grade. Ciao!”

 I just want to point out that that is no slur on Checkoslovakian dentists… but my dentist is Checkoslovakian and he constantly confuses ‘anaesthesia’ with ‘Anastasia’. As far as I’ve heard, a lot of Checkoslovakian dentists seem to have been taught that Anastasia is the correct term for the stuff they inject you with.

Anyway, I shall try to get to my writing/editing and find my happy place. I hope whoever is reading this has a more uplifting day (indeed, week) than I have had so far.

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