Four years ago, my philosophy wore out. I mean that in the sense of worn out machinery. My mind relentlessly tests and attacks my beliefs and ideals, and it's exhausting. I guess my internal auditors just wore out, and since I'm a scientist at my core I can't believe in something that's untestable. Deep down, I always just figured I could put off the universally untestable ideas for a later date, but once I realized they were trivially unassailable those ideas and ideals ceased being meaningful to me. I've yet to recover from that, and the holes made remain empty. The cost's been very high.
Three years ago, I gave up on life. Perhaps sadly, that hasn't changed much. But I'm just too selfish to relinquish existence; there may be something I'd hate to have missed out on, and if I'm wrong, a delay won't bother me much afterwards. Despite my demeanor, I'm actually very patient with the important stuff. And death's important: inevitable and irreversible, it's not something to rush.
Two years ago, I got a job. Nothing has challenged me like it. But it also is utterly devoid of any meaningfulness. Only a few seem to care about the coater, and it's space technology: carelessness goes a long way in making it run like crap. But I've learned a lot. And my work ethics and skills are far more refined than I thought I was ever capable of. For the first time, gumption's not my limiting factor - time is. Introspectively, my work as a coater engineer has merely been a hard and fast education, yielding nothing of humanitarian value. Aside from two excellent friendships, which have carried me through to today.
One year ago I almost broke even financially. But that failed, setting me back until just a month or so ago. Until then, life was pretty stressful. Hopefully my phone will never get on a robo-dialer again; it breaks the spirit in ways I can't describe (aside from how I developed a real phobia of incoming calls - today I can answer, but I still have trouble bringing myself to check voice mails). Months later, I gave up the fight and said enough is enough, and I moved to where I am now.
Nine months ago I got a motorcycle. I couldn't afford anything without difficulty, but my car was such a large source of stress a replacement was needed. And I really do love the philosophy behind Doc Brown's choice of time machine. Hence the bike (though I didn't plan on it being a Harley - which was the most correct choice, in retrospect). And to date it's been a reality anchor for me. Forcing myself to go out in the cold, heat, wet, or whatever is how I feel in control. And it's real - right there to be felt, seen, and smelt. A Harley-Davidson motorcycle is a machine you feel when you ride it - every vibration, click, and reaction is comprehensible, which is refreshing when you work on things that work faster, slower, or invisible to what is naturally humanly observable.
Last month was my first month without fear. My savings is rising and my debt is shrinking. There's even a chance I'll get a bonus this year, though I've learned not to expect anything of Guardian's upper tiers. At least I don't feel the need to be idling anymore.
But today, I find myself here. I am still idling when there's so much to do. So much to write and design and test and explore. Not to mention a lifetime of loneliness I need to get on about avoiding. And when I work it out, I'm not sure I have enough life left to get it all done.
But I guess I may as well try. Nothing else better to do.