Friday, April 18, 2014

What's in a portfolio?

I badly need a portfolio. After many years of writing like this, I have come across something inside my head (a thought), that I might want to do this for money, and if I’m lucky, a living.


I have asked around, and apparently I need a portfolio. But what is it, and how do I come up with something resembling one? I don’t know.


[silence]


Now a portfolio, i assume, is an imaginary folder containing one’s non-imaginary body of work. Writers have it just in case someone [an employer] wants to look at what he has done.

I have done nothing. Well, I have done some things. But there might not be anything worth looking at. But there might be. So how do I pick out what makes sense to other people, considering that I write solely for my own satisfaction and do not intend to inform, ask and entertain an audience? Do I even have an audience?


Should I look?


[silence]


According to my blog stats, I have some page views, but no one has ever reacted to what I have written, but that might be due to the fact that I am inside my own little head, and the voices talk to me, and then I debate with myself, and so no one gets me. I do not get myself, even.


[silence]


So where and how to begin? Now is the best time to REACT, people who are reading me. You might have strayed into this blog unintentionally, and you might think youre treading dangerous waters, but not really. My writing is safe for everybody. I mention sex but do not get explicit [I mean, why would i?]; I harbor darkness but come on, I am not the darkest you’ve read. I am alone, but not lonely. I am deep inside happy, if you’ve been wondering: I am just sporting this crust of dark sadness, because it is in my nature, not because I want to drive people away. I am totally fine with interaction and I would appreciate some really rad comments. Well, I need real comments most of all: I need to know how I am doing. How do I know if I am bad or good if no one places a comment? How do I know if the page views are real?


I am marking this day, April 19, 2014, as the day I open up my blog and accept that I do not only want to write for myself but also for other people. I shall ask the questions like “what should I write about?”; or “Are you sure about your comment?” later on. First, I need some people to be my tenacious demographic body. Do people like me, or do people hate me? Of course, I won’t be sleeping with any person here, because I have a high level of respect for people who read.


[silence]


ANYWAY.


I am making myself public. HERE GOES NOTHING. But I am hoping to get something, and i am optimistic about getting somewhere. Thank you.

 

-JAMCS

Worry for only 15 minutes per day.

Only? Exactly my reaction. I read in a HuffPost article how positive thinkers deal with worrying: one step they do is to make a part of their day, and even a spot, when and where they can worry, then outside of it, no worrying is allowed. How is it that I am totally a non-believer, although why shouldn’t I try it?


Worrying has been part of all my waking moments: the alarm clock starts to alarm, I wake up, worry about the traffic; and about the time I need before I need to go; and if I should have breakfast; and if I am going to be late if I leave at this time or should I just go early. It’s a meticulously put-together mechanism built inside of my head: the process goes well = I am more or less saved for the day; meanwhile, if the gods be angry at me = my life goes to shambles. Everything matters: details, parts, the manner of doing things, because all I want is a good outcome and it will be unbearable not to get what I need, not what I want. I need something in order to continue my life, based on how my life has been planned, or anywhere where my parents would least judge me. I am not a guy who wants many things, and the I want, I don’t really go for until I realize I need them. Hence, my shopping sprees. Kidding.


So here, in the spirit of mental wellness and maybe trying to balance myself, and decrease the worrying, which leads to my never-ending battle with depression, I shall try to be more positive and make this 15-minute habit possible. I am not one to consult a self-help book, because I have only Tina Fey to guide me, but I am willing to do this, and the first step is always the trying.


Whatever.


I need to make a mental note that I shouldn’t try and disprove this method. I need to believe in a method. Besides, this is from Huffington Post, why would they mislead poor me?


So this marks the days of being worry-free. Well, worry-free outside of the 15 minutes per day. Also the article recommends other things that positive people do that negative people just do not do, some mainly due to acquired attitudes, but the will is strong and I am flexible, and if this doesn’t work there are other ways, and there are drugs and mental facilities. So I shall not worry!

Monday, April 14, 2014

This waiting game.


Last night I slept soundly. I slept through the Monday morning, past the sunrise, past the rush hour blaring outside my windows, past everything ungodly in the morning. I started at around two in the morning and decided to finally accept the consciousness at 12, and even then I wasn’t ready to get up. I finally did get up at around one in the afternoon. It had been a really slow phase, like I was waiting for a jolt; it felt like I was the only person in the world entitled to wait on a Monday morning, and no one waits on Mondays.

I did this because I had nothing waiting for me. A Monday morning free from the rush, and I was the only person not doing it, I was decidedly on slo-mo, thoughts and all. It was like a push-button setting made for me and I was the only one. The. Only. One. While everybody was at work, carrying out orders for an empire, I was in bed, slouched forward, craning my neck, staring at the wall facing the foot of my bed, endlessly trying to plan something, but failing to have something materialize. This start-fail exclusively happened in my bedroom, in my bed, with me in my underwear from last night, surrounded by the geography from the many hours past: wrinkled sheets, a blanket spread-midway, damp pools of saliva, and three pillows as margins to the chalk-outlined sleep scenery. In this scene, the only question that gets an answer is whether I should sleep some more, because what else is there? Work emails? Annoying.

So what else was there? There was nothing else. No one was available. It was a Monday morning. What was to come? Many things hatched this morning. Again, a Monday morning. It felt like an especially fast part of the day, because it was a Monday morning, and in contrast, my life felt especially slow. I was a contrast to the pace –a pace I used to be in tune with. Just last week I was alive with the prospect of doing something, practically anything, and no matter what time I got home, I was ready for something. It didn’t matter then if there really was something, only that I was ready.

And then this sabbatical sort of thing happened and I’m here, my insides quickly accepting the vacant week ahead. I want so badly to do something, but there is no intensity in that need. Because the passport renewal I need to go to next week is the only thing standing in between me and my work, and until I have a renewed passport, I will not be able to work, even for just office duties.

I want so badly to have a short term goal for the next few days. I have nothing planned, except for the renewal appointment, and then nothing, nothing. Not a thing. And now I am typing without even thinking and the people might be thinking I am just pretend typing but hey I am really typing something.

Not working might have driven me closer to the edge and I am sorry this is incredibly sad and stupid. Gosh.

Why do I even bother chronicling this? I am being unfair to the days when things have actually happened, and were good. I am just mumbling about not doing anything.


I am mostly worried, yes. But maybe also I am berating myself silently for miscalculating the date of my passport renewal. So yes I might be mad at myself for failing to do something a child would have had no hard time with. Was it my choice? No, of course not and also this is why I am fuming. I wasn’t neglectful, I even planned it, and I just counted the months backwards incorrectly. I should have renewed a month ago. See this is how I find myself so easy to hate: I overlook details, and now I am freaking out.

To offset my stupidity I chose to have the renewal rushed, but the date [see above], is just too late. I tried looking for people who work in the passport renewal place, but no one I know knows anyone who does. And the ones who have had gone through renewal before, they say that the date I have is okay. It’s the earliest possible. So I’m here waiting, without anything urgent, without flying hours and ergo, no money.

But the thing with money is, I do not want to worry about it like any ordinary working person. I want to brush it off and if I should scrimp, so be it, and it wouldn’t be a problem:  I am resourceful. Maybe. This hasn’t been proven so it might happen or fail, but I like to think money is just a thing not all people need, and not all people should work for it. Maybe I want something that makes me happy not only by making me rich. How noble. And how hip.


This is temporary.

This is temporary.

This status is temporary. You will think about the positive things, which won’t be hard because this situation has more good than bad. You haven’t lost your job, no one is really mad; no one deeply hates you as a person. They respect you for your issues and how you choose to deal with your emotions, however hard it might seem for you to control the level of your volume, and how moderation is lost on you.

You’ll get over this. And you have plans of moving onto something you will be much appreciated not for your smile but the skills you know you do best, these that make your heart sing; these things that make you feel whole, and make people genuinely feel good for you because you are damned good at it.

Have your coffee or your tea, but into your croissant, go on. No one is pressuring you. The only thing you’re waiting for is the right time. No time to stay if you think you’re stuck or going to spend a lifetime getting stranded, plane to plane, in between flights, the delays, the people, the bosses, the voices –everything about and around this is temporary, and so is this sadness. This depression is crucial. This pain will make you better and it will do its best to heal you, for all of the things you think you lack, and the deficiencies your superiors keep seeing in you. Make this depression your determination. Turn it around and learn to tune the negativity out, because what is a life spent in absolute gloom? No fun.

You will have the schedule, no need to hurry it. And besides, you did your best. No one can do anything about that now.  Just chill to therefore live this break because you need to feel that you deserve it, and no one can take away what you have been blessed with, and this break has been given for you to enjoy, and think about your life. Do not freak out about going back, or even about going away. Everything’s going to be fine. Everything is going to work out well, because you’re smart, and you think about things and you have your prayers.

Just relax, do not think about Mondays, Tuesdays, Wednesdays or any of the weekdays. This is a special week for thinking; no one is asking anything of you. Just have fun and take your mind off work and it will all fall into place.