On Antsy Frustration

Periodically I find myself frustrated, not with anything in particular, but at my inability to understand why I’m frustrated.  It is, of course, self-perpetuating.  It hit me earlier today.  I’d watched the first episode of Westworld (highly recommended; it’s fascinating!) and was contemplating whether to watch the second episode when it struck.

The frustration is always an antsy feeling, like I’m waiting for something to happen that can’t or won’t.  Usually I can tell why, such as if there’s something I’m waiting on (going on a trip, waiting for a package, etc.), but this type is different.  This time there’s nothing in particular I’m waiting on, yet I feel compelled to do something that won’t tell me what it is.

Suddenly feeling claustrophobic, I went outside and just stood in the pasture a bit.  The wind was blowing pretty hard, a distant neighbor was firing his gun, and the animals mostly paid me no mind.  It gave me time to think and clear-headedness to do it.

I think what it’s coming down to is, I feel like I’ve stagnated.  I hate my job, but I cannot afford to take a different one that pays less.  Some part of me is telling me that I need to be moving forward with the property, clearing trees, cleaning up the barn, maybe moving my stuff into it so that it’s not just out where people can see it…but I have pretty good excuses for not doing any of them.  I don’t want to clear trees because I strongly believe they’re providing a wind block from the north that is preventing the gusts from being worse, and so until I have trees to replace them, I don’t want to cut them all down, yet.  I can’t really focus on cleaning up right now on account of the dumpster being broken (I do wish they’d hurry up and fix it), and that’s where most things are destined to go.  I’d love to plant trees and grass, but 1) money, and 2) it’s not time to plant, yet.  So at least in that regard, I must remain stagnated, at least for now.  Maybe that’s what I’m waiting for: time to plant trees and the dumpster to be fixed.  Of course, I’m sure there’s something I could be doing anyway…

Westworld is inspiring me to write a really good story.  I just don’t know what it is, yet.  Something complex.  Something beautiful.  I feel like the idea is right at the periphery of my perception, and with a little patience and open-mindedness, maybe it’ll stray near enough for me to snatch it.  We’ll see.

I find myself wishing—and not for the first time—that I could be an anthropomorphic horse, that such things really existed.  I don’t know why, but the idea of furries has always been near to my heart.  The reality is frequently ultra-disappointing: it’s a terrible bait-and-switch where you are shown cute, innocent, lovable characters, and when you pursue them, they become lazy, unrealistic slobs.  Okay, okay, I might be a little bitter in that regard.  They’re not all like that, certainly, but I’ve certainly seen quite a few (and dated at least one).

So, hooray for nebulous antsy feelings.  For now, it comes down to this: what do I want to do with my night?  Stay in and watch another Westworld episode (tempting, but I hate to waste my weekend), go to the bar and spend a lot of money while hanging out with the locals (and worry myself about becoming an alcoholic), write, or—I dunno—go downtown and hit up the clubs?

I can’t believe it’s only 20:00.  It feels so much later.  Still, I’m not feeling the clubs (it’s an hour or more each way), and the bar (and the people in it more than the alcohol) are calling.  Maybe if I leave early, I’ll catch another episode, too.  Or maybe just stay up all night watching it.  Screw it, it’s the weekend, right?  And a beer might at least calm the antsy frustration a bit, masking the symptoms rather than addressing the root cause…

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