I started playing Fallout 3 again earlier this week. I guess the emphasis in that sentence would go on started playing. I’ve put in about five hours I think at this point and, similar to every last time I’ve ever tried, it’s started to weigh me down. Would you know that all those years ago a brought the Game of the Year edition, I’ve never interacted with any of that DLC content at all.
I went to the gym today for the first time this week and I ran. That’s basically all I do there, I get on the treadmill and run, do squats as well sometimes. I always forget the sense of relief that comes with finishing something. A run, a review, a workday, a play. My life is full of unfinished things that I’m not really even conscious of. It’s nice to get things done sometimes.
The useless binch (me) is back online.
The week before last was pretty rough. Last week was pretty rough. Work has been extremely tiring and outside of that I’ve had no energy to get excited at anything. I’m in one of those phases again where the road ahead seems undefined and endless. When the world seems like that the purpose of each individual step is hard to discern.
I try not to be driven by my shame. Or at least I try not to put it in a place where other people will see. This Friday just gone I dashed straight from work to a running workout session, then got dressed and made up for a night hanging with friends. Food probably should have been a priority somewhere in there, but coming out of a 5k in that summer heat getting myself femme and presentable seemed like the more pressing matter.
I interviewed for a promotion at work on Friday. I know I just got one like three months ago but our workplace changed managers and I thought i might as well try my luck with this new guy.
I hadn’t realised that this was E3 week. It’s strange. I definitely watched it last year, and the year before that. The year before that one all my housemates stayed up together until 4am getting blazed and watching the press conferences. I think one of them had just brought an xbox one and we had this gay couple who were squatting in our living room so there was always money around for weed and video games.
The embarrassing thing is that I literally never remember how to write these things. Every week I pause a little. ‘How do I start this?’ I’ve applied for another promotion at work recently and there’s no way to make me hate myself more than ask me to write about my talents and accomplishments. As far as I’m aware I’m a disaster, I don’t really make no bones about it. I’m basically trash adjacent at this point; in my better moods I think I’m improving but then I’ll have a bad day or an unproductive week and all those worst habits of mine will express themselves and I’ll float right on back to self-hatred for a while.
This week has been a disaster, or at least the latter half of it has. Ever since Friday when I climbed full boar onto the bad decision bus and rode that fucker right off a cliff. I planned to go the city to catch some movies, so far so good. The train was delayed and I rushed and managed to get there just about in time.
I haven’t written at all this week. I’m trash, I know. I got that review of Beast published but that was a product of sheer laziness over the four days the document sat gathering dust on my desktop. It’s not like I’ve even been doing anything near productive with my time. I haven’t been liking myself too much, been being unhealthy, listening to music that helps me feel sorry for myself, getting pissed and reading Shakespeare monologues at midnight.