I consider each box I own, now, to be an unsorted box whose contents will end up in one of three piles: keep, pending, or donate. “Keep” and “donate” are self-explanatory, but how about “pending?” That’s anything that I’m not sure if I want to keep. I have a whole “downsizing wall” dedicated to pending things. It’s the last-stop-shop for many of my possessions, with a week-long time-limit, and it feels surprisingly refreshing for me.
The emotion I felt, upon receiving the email and URL that a professional article I wrote was published on a big league website, was emptiness. Is that an emotion? I didn’t feel a sense of accomplishment over getting closer to writing professionally. I didn’t feel starstruck. I didn’t feel better. I’m still in that same depressive rut. I’m happy it’s published, but no endorphins flooded my brain to congratulate me on a job well done.
In October 2018, I wrote a pitch for Keyboard Kommander’s Story Mode. I thought about how the story might begin and this spelling bee disaster story was what came to mind. This short story, along with all of my previous fiction drafts, will eventually see themselves realized within the game, although perhaps not exactly as the fully-realized narrative. Maybe more as unlockable content that can be read after winning certain conditions through playing the game?
WANNA CONSIDER A DRAFT OF THE APOKEYLYPSE? CLICK HERE TO KEEP ON READING!
I haven’t written much about Keyboard Kommander here, but I wanted to capture the excitement of our work during the moment. I am learning about Git/GitHub, Unity, Visual Studio, and have actively contributed to the game with mainly customized dictionaries so the typing will actually be narratively relevant and interesting. We have a tight-knit team that believes in the game. We are ramping up to demo the game and it seems like it’s all …klicking.
How much are you comfortable sacrificing to achieve your goals? What personal/professional comforts will you give up in order to do what you find most valuable? Would you give up a good paying job if it got you closer to your goals? Would you donate a childhood collection of pencils you’ll never appreciate again so that you could free up the time, space, and mental energy for everything else you want to do in life?
I donated my former favorite hoodie today. If there were any regrets, it’d be over wondering and wishing if things could have worked out so I didn’t need to downsize, but that’s not a positive mindset for me. Instead, I’ve adopted a methodology for keeping or donating: Is it worth $10? This hoodie is probably in a cloth bale being shipped overseas, but it wouldn’t be worth $10 for me to retrieve. Why would I keep it?
I kept this mini-rower for one month more than its usefulness because I needed a viable option. The gym I found is an effective stop-gap, where, within its hours of operation, I can row well consistently, so I don’t need this squeaky rower. I still want a nice rower I can use at any reasonable hour for those days I’m anti-social, but at least I’ve been able to burn off some superfluous energy – mentally, anyways.
“Do you really need it? Do you have their complete discography? You should narrow down your collections from 100… to 3.” After having moved almost everything into the new apartment, my relief over getting my overwhelming housing situation squared away was a 10th of the emotion I felt. More so, I felt disgusted. How could I own so much stuff? So many collections I barely enjoy. If I have 100 collections, I know now I only care about… 3.
When I’m bored, if I ever am, I never think about playing board games. If I’m not writing in a semi-professional capacity, I’m working on a large writing project, or decompressing by writing a casual essay here. I’ll do other things, but board games just aren’t something I want to pursue as a professional, amateur board game designer, or even casual player. Maybe if invited? Otherwise, I have no use to keep board game boxes.
Ideally, we probably all want to live in some sort of tranquil state where we can achieve any one of multiple goals, all through which the friction is exciting but not overwhelming. If we have to do a bit of mad dashing to get there, that can be fine, too, although we can get burned out quickly that way. I’ve been feeling like I’ve been swimming up a waterfall to get a mediocre prize lately.