The Plague of Complacency--Disinterest at it's Finest

So, it’s been a month. Over a month. And while I managed to get a YouTube video posted about the not-so-exciting adventures of body hair removal, in the most Clueless way possible, I’m so over it.

I passed another illness back and forth in my house, amongst myself and friends. My stuffy, congested sinuses and blocked ears have been passed on, both in the form of a lingering cough and a partially deaf compadre. At least no humans in the house got the stomach virus going around the line…

Disheartened, sick, tired, and relatively resigned, it makes working that 14-15hr PM grind extremely difficult to stay motivated for—especially when it seems like while the people had okay digestion, the dogs spent last week spraying everything out the other end (thankfully, on the concrete floor of the basement, where it was 1000x easier to mop up). Cleaning up doggie cow pies running on minimal sleep was no fun.

Progressing forward, I keep making plans. Minimal action, but lots of plans. “I’m going to do this!” or “What if I did that?!”. But other than a half-hearted, 30-second application to a part-time bike tech role at REI, I’ve yet to make any headway.

This past weekend was a 4-day, and I finally got out of state. Road tripping up to Washington State, I spent the weekend mentally reviving, starting my mornings being woken by the sun rays shining through the roof-top windows of a lake house in Lacey, practicing standing sequence of Primary on the ridge of the lake the same weekend as opening day of Washington’s fishing season, retracing childhood footsteps of people who matter to me, walking the boardwalk in Seattle, and basking in the well-curated green gardens of Bremerton & Port Orchard. Feeling the moisture in the air and the grass under my belly did more for me than I could have thought. Hiking to a tucked-away waterfall and watching the dogs hop into the eroded little pool at the base, reminded me of what care they deserve, and what neglect they’re experiencing due to our current lives. It’s a fast falling, slippery slope, once one has awakened to depravity and abuse, and realized what needs to happen.

I opened another savings account. One that has 100 rules about pulling money out. This account is strictly a rainy day account, where aside from 401k and retirement, money is siphoned out and placed into a fund I can’t (or chose not to, because I haven’t set up online banking on an online savings) see or touch. It’s a high yield account, so it’s a matter of just not touching it and letting it grow.

Driving through Oregon, I passed one of the trail heads for the Pacific Crest Trail. I want to hike it. I also want to take a week and hike the entirety of the Tahoe Rim Trail. All doable, with the right planning. The more I think about my future and what I want to do, the more I want to do nothing but focus on taking care of my health and the dogs.

Hopefully, I get my RYT at the end of the month. Right now some complications have come up with the instructor moving out of state in June, and while I will have attended every weekend, the unwritten mandatory studio time is something I have yet to even succeed in achieving for even one week. As a result, I question if my certificate will be granted (which I will be very upset about). But, I am teaching my first private student this coming Monday. I need to finish setting up the front room of the house to be a little more…zen, and a little less box storage, but overall, it’s a really nice place. I’m thinking I might start doing 1-1 lessons on Mondays (or group), and start organizing larger group, sign-up community type functions on Tuesdays or Wednesdays. Or even Sundays and maximize my time left. But for now it’s getting it all to work into personal life. I’m contemplating finishing up a couple of applications that would either root me in Nevada for another year or so, or move me potentially across the planet. Another steady decision is possibly starting a business and moving up to WA, working either for REI or Lockheed Martin (applications pending).

Who knows. All I know at this point is 12-hr night shifts are a drag, and I have 3 days worth of time scheduled off out of the next 7 posed to be at work. In light of not completely sucking at my job, I finally caved and installed our mass verification system on my active phone, which also allows me to easily download and access my work email on my cell phone. While this is terrible for work/life balance, it’ll help me respond easier to my team. I think I’ll still keep our messaging app off the cellular—still gotta keep some form of distance; But the email will definitely help with the upcoming absences.

I guess that is really about it. I’m going to start pouring energy into an events sign-up page off turningstrawberry.com that I can spread through Midtown to try and garner participation. If I can start gaining momentum in independent work, it’ll make saving for a lake house of my own in Washington State all the easier. I can’t express how soothing practicing with the sound of waves lapping, morning chill biting, and the barely-there warmth of light sweats cutting the cold had on my practice and my mental state.

I mean, Voodoo Donuts definitely helped, too, but I gotta say, the practice I was able to mold to my own felt wonderful—no one else’s schedule, no one else’s expectation, no one else’s pretense. Just flowing through the sequence, just breathing, just listening and focusing and releasing.

That’s about it. That’s the time I feel like I’m in, and there’s no place for extending the discontent. I’m here in body, but I’m not 100% in, and I don’t feel like I’m myself. Half-assing isn’t my cup of tea, and I feel… over it. Again.

So, I guess, here we go. The second stage to Turning Strawberry. The first phase launched this platform. It launched the journey and the move to something new. And while it helped me break free and move on to something new, something entirely different in life, this phase no longer serves me. Instead, it’s dragging me into a very familiar, melancholic state of mind that I do not want to sink in to.

So, here we go. Sandwiched between two trips to Washington and with a potential move staged for early 2020, let’s really see where 2019 takes me. It’s officially 1/3 of the way through—June is fast approaching. And as it closes in on the mid-year mark, here’s to breaking the unappealing careers apart, to once again begin the active search for what composes my life’s passion.