Leave it to the Christmas season to leave your self-worth looking for a metaphorical oven to stick it’s metaphorical head in.
This is not to say that the holiday season always leads to doom and gloom, despite public assumption. Truth be told, suicide is not as high in the month of December as those who make up statistics would have you believe.
Now, Thanksgiving? Whew. There is a time of year to be singing “Bring out yer’ dead!”
I am left with an inability to pinpoint what makes this time of the year such a sap on everything that I am comprised of. My inspiration, work ethic, spirit, and motivation all suffer from a fugue state that even Jenny Lewis of Rilo Kiley would find admirable enough to write an indie song about.
All of this is as good an excuse as any for why I stopped writing for VGW a week ago. My recent nuptials may have had an equal hand in the affair, tag-teaming my plans that remained for the rest of 2013.
Nothing is worse than sitting down to do something and being struck down with apathy, as if Zeus himself was picking on you from atop Olympus. Thus, every time I would make an attempt in writing about video games I would find myself thinking “You know what is a great idea? Not doing this thing I was going to do. Where is the Roku remote?”
Maybe this apathy comes from a different source. The answer could be in the fact that I am more in love with the idea of potential than I am following through. Potential leaves you with a feeling of the road firmly being under you feet, the wide expanse ready for the taking. The journey still to come.
Actually finishing something is a crap shoot. A guess. A shot in the dark.
Potential gives me a warm feeling in my brain, as if I have the chance to be so much and more. It does not let me down.
Potential will lie to you.
To combat this problem, I am building myself back up from the bottom. I need to learn the difference between completing and attempting, because somewhere along the way I have forgotten. It doesn’t matter why I have forgotten, but the problem must be rectified nonetheless.
Maybe I shouldn’t be so hard on Christmas. Even if if the season was the problem, I should forgive and forget.
Tis the season, after all.