(no subject)

So many melancholy people today. Hey, I hear ya. I could get sucked into that; I could write, for instance, about how too often it seems that only inertia rather than any real personal interest keeps me on my current so-called career path, as if there were even the potential of a real job at the end of it; this comes up practically whenever I must spend the day focused on my dissertation work.

Fortunately for me, though, I have the stark terror of an impending two-hour-long driving lesson to divert attention away from such matters, unless I want to take the opportunity to turn that attention to the fact that I'm this old and only now learning to drive.

Or, conversely, I can see it from the perspective that in this respect, at least, I am taking positive steps to fix something deficient in myself. Hmm.

But, mostly, it's just the terror, so we'll leave it at that for now.

I read one of these melancholy journal entries to a vaguely appropriate industrial soundtrack; some band or other repeating the words, "my life is a triumph of my will." (One of the problems with my industrial music collection is that it is almost entirely in compilations, so that I never really pay attention to who performs what, thus undermining my original impetus for compilation-collecting; but I digress.) I want to say, good for you, then, Mr. Anonymous-through-my-Inattentiveness-Industrial-Guy, even if "triumph of my will" sounds too much like yet another person has read enough Nietzsche so that they feel -- falsely -- wise and interesting.(*) (I had occasion yesterday, while reading my fantasy novel with the embarrassing cover(**), to regret that the man ever said that thing about stuff not killing us making us stronger; the by-now almost equally cliché counterpoint that what doesn't kill you could also leave you a gibbering, crippled wreck seems not to have made much headway except as humor; but here I go with another digression.)

Anyway. Will-triumphing. It could work, I think. If we only had the willpower to overcome the inertia that keeps us from no longer being the person we don't want to be.

I suppose that should technically be "persons," but that just sounds weird, like I'm talking about multiple-personality disorder.

I have two hours until my two-hour driving lesson. So far, at least, my driving practice hasn't killed me. So maybe it will actually make me stronger.

Goddammit! How annoying is that!

-----
(*) I should point out that I have read practically no Nietzsche whatsoever, so that was not from the point of view of one looking down on poor fools who misunderstand what I understand, but rather of one looking down on poor fools whose understanding of philosophy is, one suspects from a certain cynicism, although not Cynicism, merely superficial and trendy.

(**)And embarrassing subject matter: race-car drivin' elves save troubled children. But it's a fun read, once.

(no subject)

That could have gone worse. Although I was not happy when I realized that we were on 95.

The main problem is, I had to pee the entire second hour. But saying something meant I'd have to stop and park, and that seemed more daunting than just holding it.

And now, off to buy a Gameboy game for my nephew's birthday, since I told him Sunday I already had a present and would mail it forthwith.