Torrefaction

 Ah, my old friend is back -- that's right, that searing pain in my middle that says "you're taking on too much! You're not built to withstand this kind of stress!"  When this started, back in college, I would just live off of bagels and milk for a week while blowing off my classes and avoiding human contact.  It worked.  Unfortunately, I'm now employed full-time, married, and lactose-intolerant, so while the bagels are still an option I can't really do the whole retreating into my shell thing, or drink any milk.  And it was never more than a short-term fix, anyway.  Somehow I need to learn to live a less stressful life...hopefully before adding parenthood to the mix.

At the moment, things are just piled up a little too high. First, there's the adoption paperwork thing, in which I have to write answers to questions like "how do you feel about your sex life?" ("like it's private") And I'm supposed to be finishing a freelance article right this minute, instead of blogging, but while writing articles brings me spare cash and free 3d software, it doesn't bring me inner peace.  And my rumbly tummy wants inner peace, or a near substitute, and blogging is like a binky for the soul.  I'm also supposed to be working on some 3d models so I can make some money to fund my new computer.  Working on 3d models on my current computer is excruciating, due to the age & slowness of the computer.  So that's a bit of a dilemma.  Maybe I can find yet another freelance hustle to use to earn enough $$ to buy the new computer so I can go back to my primary freelance hustle, 3d modelling...geesh.  Or I could just decide that one job is enough for any sane person, and just do my day job (grueling enough all by itself, and includes having a "crackberry" pretty much welded to my hip), and stop trying to make extra money?  Seems like a good idea but extra money is just so damn soothing.

Aside from the woes of my personal brand of capitalism, one dear friend is getting divorced and another is recovering from major surgery, so I'm worrying about them.  And a third is touring to promote his fabulous new book, which has just been published to rave reviews and brisk sales.  Which is not like getting divorced or having major surgery, so I'm not at all worried about him, but I'm, how shall I put it, completely eaten up with envy.  While I've been fucking off with one thing and another--career in computers, side gig in 3d graphics, thinking about writing, talking about writing, occasionally actually writing a teensy bit--he's been sticking his butt in a chair on a regular basis for 15 years and writing, writing, writing, writing.  So he deserves every bit of his success, and I'm absolutely delighted for him.  I'm also delighted to have earned a spot in the acknowledgements of his book, because I made a suggestion or two about his first draft.  But it's not how I always imagined first seeing my name in print, and it's forcing me to look at the whole writing part of my life and see if it really fits anywhere.

Until I figure that out, though,  bagels and zantac will have to do.