I made a promise to myself 25 days ago that I was going to write 365 daily entries at least in this blog, regardless of what the future held for me. Obviously I didn’t expect to find a job as quickly as I did (considering I was ready to go back to my old job if nothing fell through), and I especially didn’t consider this new job to be as overwhelming and busy and fun as it has been, but what good’s my word if I can’t even keep it with myself?
I’ve said it once and I’ll say it again: I’m tired. I worked a late shift today. Normally my hours are 8-4, but today I changed them to 12-8. The last tech guy comes in every Thursday or so around 6, so I wanted to meet up with him and get paid to do it. I was being optimistic with my schedule, I guess. We didn’t stop until after 9:30. I didn’t get home until 10. I usually spend the 9-10 hour thinking and writing about this entry. I will admit, though, that the last few days have taken less time than that because I’ve been regurgitating them out so I can get them over and done with and get to sleep as quickly as possible. That’s what I wanted to do tonight. I didn’t want to write this; I wanted to go straight to sleep. But my duty to myself is too strong to let me make life that easy. I have to see this through because I have to see this through.
I have not improved enough in 25 days to quit writing this blog. This blog is supposed to document my journey into becoming someone better than I was 26+ days ago. That’s the simple mission statement. I know if I have one more drink I would lose control. She is still on my mind — hell, I had a sad dream about her last night — so I know if I drink I will try to make contact with her in some way. I can’t. I have to move on. It’s good that it’s been 26+ days since I last communicated with her, but that’s still not enough time. I’m actually very lucky to have found a job that has kept me so busy; I have nothing and no one else to really think about. But I don’t have the strength yet to tell myself I’m better. I don’t know if I’ll ever be better. There’s a “super” Mario version in my head that I want to be so much, but I’ll never become him. I don’t even know if I’ll ever get close to becoming him. But it’s better to be closer to this Mario than the evil Mario I almost succumbed to.
I know I should be proud that I’ve written 25 straight entries, but I’m not. The quality lately isn’t where I would’ve liked them to be. But I have a job, you might say. It’s understandable if I miss just one day. No, it’s not. Not for me. I have to be perfect, and part of that mentality is seeing this through. I know. It’s hell. But it’s my hell, and I’m used to it.
I also like it.