writing on the wall, and all that

I’m starting to get to that point where keeping an informal game-focused pop-culture blog seems ridiculous.  I don’t really know what I’m doing here anymore.  I’m feeling disconnected from the games I play; I’m feeling distanced from the books I read; I feel like I can’t enjoy music the way I used to, where I’d just totally shut out the world and allow myself to be consumed by the sounds coming through my headphones.

I don’t think there’s anything wrong with allowing a bit of self-care right now.  Staying angry is necessary but it’s exhausting, and while I’m not on social media all that much anymore, I can’t help but feel that when I do pop my head in, most of what I see are essentially pissing matches about who the most “woke” is instead of finding practical, tangible ways of dealing with the nightmare we’ve all been thrust into.  And it’s more than just calling up your elected officials and making your voice heard – because once you get off the phone with your representative, that representative needs to follow through, and there is some frustrating (albeit anecdotal) evidence that the necessary follow-through isn’t happening.  (As an example, see this Twitter thread.)

Look – while this blog has the perfect title for it, this is not going to turn into a political site; I’m not smart enough to have the kinds of insights that are useful, and I can’t write well enough to fake my way through it, and the one thing I think we can all agree on right now is that there’s a WHOLE LOT OF NOISE.  I am reading, I am listening, I am learning.  I would rather speak my piece when I know what my piece is.

But I must admit that the alternative – to pretend that the nightmare isn’t happening and that you’re actually curious as to what I think about, say, Titanfall 2‘s campaign – isn’t all that appealing.  Or realistic.  I know what kind of traffic I get over here, and it ain’t much.

I write this now because this is usually the time of the year where I start going through my various spreadsheets and start compiling my Best Of 2016 posts, and I’m just not feeling it.  2016 sucked on nearly every conceivable level, and while there were some bright spots that are worth celebrating, I’m finding it unusually difficult to muster up the requisite joy with which to celebrate them.  Despite my medications and weekly therapy sessions, there’s a deep melancholy that’s setting in, and when I reflect on all this year has given us, it’s all I can do to stop myself from curling into the fetal position and setting this blog on fire.

I don’t want to set this blog on fire.  That’s about as definitive as I can get right now.

I do want to focus on finishing my album.  That’s the thing I should be working on over everything else.  Writing lyrics fucking sucks, but I’ve gotta figure out a way to work through it anyway.  I’ve got at least an album’s worth of really good music, but none of it’s finished yet, and if I continue to not finish it, what’s the point?

Anyway.  I’m rambling more than usual because this is the first substantial lull I’ve had all day and it’s probably the last opportunity I’ll have to write here before December.

So.  Take care of yourselves; take care of each other; I’ll be back here when I figure out how to do it right.

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