The first thing that shocks tourists and visiting family more than anything about Great Britain is the greyness.
When it’s overcast, (and it is more often not), the air is sucked out of the nations lungs. Later they get bummed out by the bleakness of our cities, our surly shop staff and the fact that most of what they’ve seen about London on TV is a lie and really most of our capital city is a concrete and brick slave plantation with paper chains and fields of Sainsburys and Tescos and chain shops.
But it’s the greyness. The enveloping colourless miasma that we breath and swim in. We are born in colour and live in grey and die in the dark.
Sunday afternoon -The dark tea time of the soul (h/t Douglas Adams) Let the random ruminations begin!
Hugo stared at the wall daring it to be anything but what it was. Unyielding, unchanging, uninteresting. It did not alter or shift. Neither did the Djinn rune written in an ink no pure human could read.
There was no option but to do this the Djinn way. He felt his body undulate and lose weight. It felt like falling asleep but not nearly as comforting. Anyone lucky or unlucky enough to have been watching him at that moment would have seen him appear to fade into near nothingness, a ghost image. That ghost then appeared to walk through the wall.
The manner of why this can be is quite tedious to explain.
Why give away your work for free?
What do acclaimed authors Cory Doctorow, Paulo Coelho, Neil Gaiman, Seth Godin, Tim Ferriss and Hugh Howey all have in common?
They give away their best work — for free.
I’m blessed. I know because my mates tells me so whenever I talk about what I’m feeling and what I’m dealing with at the moment.
They ask me what’s wrong. I tell them how I feel and they insist on trying to make me feel better by reminding me how many people are suffering or worse off. I don’t know about them but knowing other people are suffering doesn’t make me feel better.
I get it though they’re just going at it the wrong way. Count your blessings.
Thing is when you’re depressed your blessings aren’t there anymore. You have a flat? Could lose the flat, could end up homeless, could have vermin. You have a job? Could get passed over for a promotion, could have another re-organisation, might not even like this f@#*ing job anyway. Depression is a death spiral you can’t pull out of your own. That’s the difference. It’s like someome’s thrown a spanner in your difference engine.
As mentioned before I’m a wannabe sufi. A sufi en pretence. I’m fasting at the moment for the month of Ramadhan and will do so for the next twenty days or so. 19 hours a day without food or drink. The mood swings I’m going through are Shakespearean. I’m rather dramatic company at the moment and if you were an audience and my life was a film you’d be applauding my dramatic shifts back and forwards.
With a spanner in my engine and dearth of coffee and fuel in my system I’m in trouble.
The gaps in the noise of the world are the windows of opportunity that allow me to hear my thoughts. Meditation helps some of the time. Often though there’s not the opportunity because of the pace of daily life.
Actually that’s a lie. It’s all about power. Having the power to slow down or speed up at your own volition is outside of my power while I’m working a 40 hour working week.
I envy the ability, the privilege to move at ones own pace.
More and more realise that the source of my depression is from the realisation of how unfulfilled my life has been. In fact that was the root behind the age reboot last year, 40 is the new 30 (The last 10 years have been awful I’m declaring a do-over)
Being Black British rather than African American I’ve been playing catch up with some of the vocabulary and cultural memes.
Nothing describes my current state of despair as well as the phrase “A dream deferred is a dream denied”
In other news the novel is taking shape, in a practical “I’m actually doing something sense” rather than the procrastinating “I’ve thought about it” sense. I can honestly say I only feel happiness these days when I am writing or reading. Everything else in my world is a numb blur rushing past my minds eye. Like a brain damaged patient doing physical therapy as I organise whats in front of me whats behind my eyes begins to organise itself into a steadily more coherent mass rather than the mess I usually wake up as.
Every now again when I’m unsteadily steering my way through my own personal storm I’ll think out loud.
More often than not I’ll say “I don’t even know who I am”
Meanwhile back at the Batcave…
Since I’ve last written I’ve been mostly trying to get my head straight.
It’s been a tough couple of weeks and I’ve now reached out for help on that score. Watch this space for more on that. Save to say I have now accepted the fact that I am big “D” Depressed not llittle “d” depressed and I can’t figure it out on my own.
On the writing front I’ve now decided to use Roz Morris’s novel writing process to help me get me pass my writing block. I went through a dozen or so possibilities but Roz impressed me the most with her readability and structured approach.
Nail Your Novel – Why Writers Abandon Books and How You Can Draft, Fix and Finish With Confidence
Using her approach I am now scoping out my ideas and working on my synopsis in a orderly fashion rather than bouncing in and out – though rather than keep all my ideas in a hat I’m using Evernote – same principle
I’ve spent way too much time procrastinating on twitter and Facebook but I like to think its better than not writing at all.
“In the great tradition of these speeches, generally someone says something along the lines of ‘Chase your dreams,’ but I don’t want to tell you that because I don’t believe that. I want you to chase your reality.” Christopher Nolan