Woke up from a fitful slumber at six this morning in a cold bed and the smell of burning plastic (from having a shopping bag a bit too close to the radiator) still slightly wafting through the air. I am not quite sure what I was dreaming about to tell the truth; but I can be fairly sure that it did little to ease my troubled mind.
Honestly speaking, while I am kind of scared about my current financial status there are things that I am even more worried about. Like, when I do get the job, gig, income coming in that will I still be as sad and troubled as I am now. All these people I chat with on Twitter and Facebook; am I bugging them? Will I ever be a true comic professional (despite having a trade length book and a self published book, both kind of well received, I still have yet to have any editor-type people notice) and be able to eke out a modest living with it? Have I wasted most of my life on frivolities rather than concentrating on the Important Stuff™? Will I have anything interesting to say on this blog, or in conversations with people obviously more interesting and cooler than myself? Will I find something new to fret over when I solve these issues (if I ever do) and will I ever be 100% happy. These thoughts wear on me like sandpaper on my soul.
I know worry and self-imposed stress are useless and should be rationalized and done away with, but that is not human nature, is it? We cannot simply flip a switch in our heads to make us feel confident or calm or happy. That itself tears at me: I want to be confident, calm and happy, I just can't make it happen despite all the 'success' I have had.
And that's the true problem, isn't it?
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