Nonexistentiamalaise

Today was a difficult day at work, for no good reason. I'm not sad or depressed. I'm not particularly busy. No one has been mean or rude to me. No one's pestering me about anything. I'm disturbingly problem free right now.

I'm in a problem-free malaise. It's not a particularly existential malaise. It's a non-existential malaise. A nonexistimalaise, to coin a phrase.

I had some extra time at work, so I wanted to post something on this-here blog. But I couldn't think of anything to write. At first, I tried to write something about Carmelo Anthony, and the lack of parity in basketball compared to football, but it just seemed so damned dull I ended up deleting the damned thing. I mean, who gives a fuck about that? I don't. So why am I writing it. Good question. Delete.

And so I wrote this, instead.

One of the challenges I face in writing creatively now is that I don't want for anything in my life, except creativity. As a young hack, it was easy to rail against machines and parents and Universities. But now, I'm pretty much in charge of my own shit. What I do is a product of my own choices. Crap I elected to do freely, without coercion. It felt easier to get on a high horse and criticize, because so much of what was happening to me seemed out of my control.

But now the things I do, I control. That means it's harder to find a foil, or a contrast to my own experience that moves me and makes me want to rail.

And that's all I have to say about that.