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2020-11-25. been a while

It's been a while.

I am heartened by the fact that the sentence "It's been a while" is a refrain in and around the so-called smolweb. We're all busy people. We're all living long and varied and complicated lives. We all only have 24 hours in each day to eat, work, sleep, clean ourselves, and perform the other perfunctory functions of being alive. Blogging is a hobby, and a hobby is second-class.

I appreciate that this kind of writing is similar to open-source programming. I wonder if that's why many smolwebbers are interested in open-source, or maybe it's the other way round. Hm.

Anyway, it's been a while.

One reason for me, at least -- one reason I've not been so public on the gemini capsule I so diligently set up and then did little more with -- is that my workplace has deemed it blockable. Necessary to be blocked, even. I can't access gem.acdw.net at all from work, where I spend the bulk of my waking hours, especially the ones where I have little else to do but write or read or, more recently (at least until this Block), chat on IRC. So I have to remember to post my writings when I get home, when my mind is elsewhere, when I am thoroughly outside of "work mode," which includes writing.

Of course, this last sentence contradicts the previous four paragraphs. What can I say? I contain multitudes.

So what /have/ I been doing this month?

I've experienced waves of depression nearly every day. When outside of it -- or even, to be honest, when inside of it, at a proper distance from myself -- it's fascinating, the way it waves in and out of my head, like .. well, like a wave in the ocean. I'll be underwater, and later, come out. And it's like I was never under, except my head's a little wet and I'm blinking. And then -- here comes another, and I'm under again, and I have to really remind myself that the air exists.

I've been working haphazardly on my blanket. I've been crocheting it for months, off and on -- more off than on, if I'm being honest with myself; if I were more /on/, maybe it'd be done by now. Maybe by December.

TV has been watched. We churned through what NCIS is on Netflix and I ordered the next part on DVD from the library. It came today.

Food has been made. There was a particularly delicious enchilada recipe that is visible on my http site. Other than that, nothing too extraordinary.

I've biked to work quite a bit. I've almost logged another hundred miles on the thing from when I wrote about it last, at the beginning of the month. Which I suppose makes sense -- I received it about a month before that.

I've written a bit, here and there.

I've floated.

Between this world and the next, do you think there's a kind of accounting? I worry that if there were, I'd find that too much of my time was unspent, merely wasted. Water down the drain. On the other hand, that's all rain does, and the ocean too -- and everything else for that matter. There's no grand scheme in any of it, is there? Sure, it looks nice, but there's no purpose: it doesn't even tell time. The whole thing's a Rube Goldberg machine from the ground up; why shouldn't I be one too? Make yourself happy, I say. Damn the rest.

Maybe there's the problem -- am I making myself happy?

Maybe it's been a while since I have.

I'm not sure if I remember how to get back.

Did I ever know the way?

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