Creativity And Courage: Battles With Procrastination

alive: imprisoned man enjoying light streaming down on him
Alive. As yet unfinished piece that has been sitting untouched for nine months.

For me having a creative drive is a wonderful and cursed thing. On one hand I feel like it is the only thing I have to really offer, but on the other, I have completely failed to do anything substantial with it. For a number of years now I have had this growing sense of doom, as I’ve watched all my endeavours brought down by a lack of courage.

All creative endeavours require a huge investment of courage, whether the piece is created for cerebral appreciation, pure-candy, or a mix of both. Creative pursuits require investments of time, self-belief, and determination – courage by another name. Courage is what we call on when a piece gets wonky, goes awry, or when we encounter writer’s block. Courage is what we need to break through all the traps that can drag us down when we’re feeling weak, lost, tired, etcetera.

To date I have dozens of short stories, novels, digital art pieces, and one animation left unfinished. My hard drive is littered with the corpses of failed courage. Anxiety, depression, life falling apart; these have all been factors in why I have so much left undone. For some, creatively thrives in these situation, but this has not been my experience. Sometimes projects haven’t turned out because they weren’t properly thought out, little flash-in-the-pan-ideas that are more a feeling than anything – I’m not counting those here. Those feelings or ideas can often come in handy somewhere further down the line.

Every day is a new chance

And this is what we have to keep in mind: even if our courage fails us time and again, for whatever reasons, there is still the chance that today is the day we get started on that big idea, or get back to one we’ve left sit. Even if we start with something small. Start journaling, or blogging. Every day is a new chance to challenge habits of procrastination and get going. Every day is a chance to do all those amazing creative things we didn’t do yesterday. We can reverse the trend of years slipping through our hands, as we postpone our dreams. Yeah, that sounds good! Let’s do that. Let’s stop wasting our talents. …but when picking up these tasks it is easy to be overwhelmed by all sorts of thoughts.

Some thoughts that bother me:

  • Is the idea good enough?
  • Is it worth it?
  • Is there some better way to spend my time?
  • What’s the point?
  • Even if it is good no one will care.
  • It’s utterly futile.
  • I’m going to die and it’ll all mean nothing, forgotten in the blink of an eye.
  • Maybe I’ll get a head start on that that death thing.
  • No, maybe I’ll just get drunk and piss the day away.

The answer to all these questions? It doesn’t matter; do it anyway. If, like me, you subscribe to the idea that life has no inherent meaning, then what can be a greater goal than to pursue work that we enjoy doing? For me, ultimately I know I can do more good for myself and others by writing than I can do by forcing myself into situations that awaken crippling anxiety and depression. With that I am getting back to work on my most promising and complete novel. Laters.

Today was a big nothing

I spent most of it asleep then I sorted out like a year’s worth of emails. There were around 4000 of the fuckers, and almost all of them were spam or marketing stuff I didn’t care about.

I just ate a bag of chips.

 

 

The end.

Bacon, death, and industrial-metal

Today I woke up feeling like doing anything was stupid. Instead of doing stuff I lay in bed thinking about dying. Eventually I decided to make scrambled eggs. I cut a  finger while dicing onion. There were no bandaids, so I was trying to stem the bleeding with tissue. It wouldn’t stop bleeding, but I was set on getting the meal done. I’d chop a bit and then wipe blood away. Occasionally a drop would drip into the food. What do I care. Food just gets turned into blood and shit anyway.

Some people will always succeed but I don’t care

Eventually, still bleeding, I returned to bed with the my booty of scrambled goods and coffee.  It was pretty good eats. Instead of doing anything important, I got back to reading the gonzo account of rockstar, Al Jourgensen (Ministry, Revolting Cocks, Lard etc). I would laugh here and there but I couldn’t concentrate, and most of the time was spent reading the same pages over and over. I also found it a little depressing (but maybe a little bit inspirational too) that this crazy character could be so fucked up on drugs and booze (and be depressed), yet still do like a thousand albums. I don’t even care about waking up in the morning.

Chicken coop massacre

Around 1 pm I mustered all the rock-star inspired OMPH! I could pull together to go check the animals. I discovered the poor chickens had been massacred – probably a dog jumping the fence in the wee hours of the morning. No bodies, but lots of feathers. That was kinda depressing.

Then I managed to use the phone (something I have a near phobia of) to book an appointment I’d been putting off for weeks. Then I showered and now I’m fucking exhausted.

 

 

 

I want wine

 

 

My favourite Ministry album

 

More depressing haiku and other joy

Today’s super depressing haiku is delivered by Yellow Smiley guy as featured in the hit webcomic Jim Is. JK like five people have read those. Yeah, I wrote a bunch of these as a laugh, so be prepared for more jabs of eloquently executed gloom on days I don’t get around to more substantial blogging.

yellow-smilly_delivers_depressing_haiku._Witness to the void Cold fuligin penetrating Soul withered to black

As an afterword, I’m feeling great. Today, anyway. Yellow Smiley might be sounding-off in the gloom, but today I’m sickeningly positive.

I want to be Bernard Black

So I had a had a big long post full of unashamed bleeding ready to post but decided I was a little compromised by a rather large intake of booze.

Instead I have decided to posts GIFs of that fabulous bookshop owning alco, Bernard Black. For the uninitiated, I am referring to the protagonist of Black Books, a rather fine (nay, the finest) example of contemporary British television comedy. Bernard Black is portrayed by the almost equally fabulous (but not really), Dylan Moran.















Coffee vs Death

Woke up around 2pm this afternoon. I lay there a while contemplating… There were things that should be done. Big things, small things. Stupid things mostly. Maybe suicide was the best option, I thought.

Stuff doesn’t need to be done when you’re dead. Life becomes so much easier. No absurd places to be, no absurd conventions to follow. No one to put on a brave face for. Just simple, infinite oblivion.

comic: jim laying in bed contemplating death vs coffee

There was no one around to come bumbling in on my business. Surely it would be easy…

Eventually I decided to get up and have coffee instead. Put some music on. Talk to friends. Slowly the day appeared a little brighter, but still so many unresolved issues. Huge, sinister incorporeal issues that have no clear line of attack. Things that should bring me joy and comfort, twisted into something I can’t even face.

Put them off another day. Enjoy the small things. The coffee, the music, the friends. Smile and laugh a little. Today is here, so enjoy it.

And now I’m enjoying a fabulous cheap wine. Life is horrible, but it’s also ok, and also fantastic.

I can do anything!

Seriously, I can do anything! This is the sort of mind frame I’m often in by the time I should be going to bed. I’ve usually managed to achieve a small victory, finishing a few small tasks, or even something a little more weighty, if it was a particularly saucy day. I’ll be making plans for the next day. I’ll be organising. I’ll be getting ready to attack a bigger task. “I’m going to work on money tasks,” I say to myself. “I’m going to go back to uni,” I might say another night.

I’m telling myself that 4-5pm will be exercise time, and that I won’t drink an entire bottle of wine (or two) just because. I feel like life is finally under control, that I can actually do it, that after 3 long years in the wilderness I have finally reached the fucking light at the end of the fucking tunnel.

comic - man enjoying sunrise

And then the next morning I wake up like the above. Except not at all like that. All that progress from the day before is gone. During the night I’ve ended up at some earlier backup point. I wake up feeling like a pile of shit. That I can’t do anything. That my life is fucked. That everything is pointless, even if I did momentarily feel like doing something.

comic man in prison looking at fadded sunrise

At some point I drag myself out of bed. On the best days I’ll manage to shower, breakfast, and even put on clothes. On the worst days I’ll just sit in my stank and drink coffee (which is admittedly pretty fucking glorious). Little by little I try to get back to where I was the night before. Some days I get no where.

After a while I get to wondering why I’m still here. That surely it’s only a matter of time before I do something rash. And why not? Life is without meaning, all suffering is futile, and any joy is transient. Why not get blasted and go play by the cliffs, or get to working on a serious heroin addiction? Why not?Against It all, I’m still here.

I’m still here because there is that little something that says, I am a unique fucking snowflake! I can do this, damn it! Life may only have whatever fleeting value and point I bestow upon it, but I’m going to do it my way.

So, while every day isn’t waking up to the heavens beaming warmth, love, and joy down upon me, I can work my hardest to live how I want to live, and achieve all I can.

Put on your pants and join me.

Jim’s a big fat liar!

So, a blog post a day, huh? Yeah, well, I did actually have something written up to post for yesterday, but then I decided I wanted to do a little illustration. And I was really going to do the illustration. But I didn’t… and the beauty is that no one cares, not even me. Actually I do. A little. I’m a tiny bit disappointed in myself :/

person drinking wine and goofing off.

Instead of getting around to this little task, that probably would have taken ten minutes, I decided to get drunk and play with my e-comrades until 4am. It was totally worth it. Now, I’m going to go do an illustration for this post, but I plan to actually do it tonight, and not flake. Yesterdays post shall now become tomorrows.

Watch me do it! Or not. I’m going to get dinner.

So, I had a delicious Kway Teow noodle box for dinner. It was the bomba. Then I was feeling really tired and thought I wouldn’t get the post done. But I did! Yay, me.

Blogging Every Day: It’s All About Nothing

Today I decided I’m going to blog every day.

I’m going to do it even if I have nothings to say.

I’m going to blog about nothing.

Today, CyberageFunk is officially a blog about nothing. Just like Seinfeld was a show about nothing, and my existence is a life about nothing. That’s the beauty of everything. Everything is about nothing. We just pretend stuff is about something. But it’s not…

Maybe I’ll write about nothing multiple times a day. Here’s George Costanza pitching that show about nothing.

Is The TTP The Final Incantation to Summon The Dark Corporate Future?

I’m not a NWO nutter, but the TTP and it’s brothers have caused me a good deal of concern. Too much happening without transparency. One’s imagination can run wild with possible ramifications of giving corporations the only vote that matters in shaping the future.

Could democracy be that nice shiny bauble that the landed interest folk threw the plebs to keep them quite while they got on with stealing everything?