Monday/Tuesday: the sequence of actions –
(a) Awakened early, stomach in difficulties, feeling stressed. Attracted to dreams and sleeping (because of avoiding responsibilities, because of the pleasantness of relaxing, because it was chilly out), stayed in bed.
(b) Received several phone calls, tried to ignore, let machine take messages. Finally answered one call on my mobile, was told that friendly American academic (academic friend?) is in town, and we’re going to dinner with him. Agreed to join group, though aware this would destroy possibility of doing work tonight.
(c) Got up early afternoon, stumbled around, annoyed over pattern of day and the various ways it was getting out of my control. On the other hand what would I have done that was so useful, otherwise? Showered, then thereby felt better; laundry, cleaning up.
(d) Slept again for an hour or so.
(e) Started to type lyrics from the show I’m writing about into a document so that I could use them in the presentation.
(f) Interrupted this quasi-work to go out to said dinner. Walked through town – thereby getting some exercise; the day had gotten warmer and pleasant – was ultimately glad to see colleagues and visiting friend/academic. Enjoyed dinner, it was socially pleasant after some initial awkwardness (it looked at first as though we were all a bit detached from each other, and/or a bit tired of each other – which makes sense, one of the delights of summer for academics is getting away from one’s colleagues for a while, but we got over it). All got rather hilarious, and fun; I was myself a bit silly, but enjoyed it all. Also good/valuable (?) to see famous friend.
(g) Dinner itself: some of it very good, some of it okay. Probably spent too much money, drank too much alcohol, ate too much fattening food, but still enjoyed it socially.
(h) During dinner was told that I would have a houseguest – for a week – slightly dismayed at first, then thought, no that’s good, I’ll get kicked out of the front room and will have little to do but work on presentation and other papers.
(i) Traveled with I–– to club to briefly greet/talk to visiting writer from New York. Fun to talk to writer and his charming girlfriend, even over loud music. Left after about fifteen minutes, thinking hmmm, I should see writer’s presentation this week. A pleasant connection; and frankly it's nice to know people who are successful in the arts.
(j) Sleep. Ill by morning (rich food and alcohol); got over it by midday. Phone call to meet with student; cleaning up to prepare for houseguest; bought lunch with said student at nearby café, rather than making lunch. Thus bad (paid money) and good (house clean, brief social contact); and also of course ambivalent (enjoyable lunch but probably more than I needed to eat; espresso might wake me up but might bother my stomach; etc.).
(k) Home, finished cleaning, realized houseguest wouldn’t arrive until tomorrow. Lay on couch, slightly sleepy.
Why would I record all this in such absurd, probably quite tiresome, detail? Well, I find myself – as I often do; but more consciously now, and even with some criticism of the process itself – trying to decide what in all this list is good, and what is bad. If I am too depressed/isolated, then social contact is good, isn’t it? But does it waste time I should be spending writing? How about the conflict between the pleasure/inspiration of good food, and the relaxation of wine, on the one hand, and gaining weight or getting less healthy on the other?
And larger issues: what are the relative positions of pleasure, and of work? How will I know when I'm wasting my time... or taking care of myself? Or, to put it another way: when are useless/devolutionary habits running me, or (of course!) when am I thinking/worrying too much?...
Heidegger: in talking about Being, he adds something unexpected – that it is not that Being is the only 'right' way of being, as opposed to habit and trivia and mistakes. He offers a rather forgiving lever out of anxiety – he says that being everyday or trivial is perfectly normal and part of Being, that it's the ground from which we might be able to do something better, a ground that can't be eradicated and shouldn't be despised. This is sort of like when Buddhists say that the confusion and attachment of life is actually the material you use to find a place beyond it – you can't erase the muck, it's the fertilizer for making something grow in your life.
Simple enough, I suppose. But I'm never entirely sure which fork I should go down, at any given moment... the anxiety about judging is of course typical of my personality type; but it makes some days, with all of their dull and bright facets, engender extraordinarily unwieldy towers of judgment and concern.
I should have been a beachcomber....
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