Fat Bunny

  • I hate that guy…

    I’m really sick of struggling being my whole personality at the moment. Objectively I get it because it has been a hell of a few years and that stuff would grind anyone into a thick unpleasant paste, but still…

    Complicated children, some health issues, and a sprinkling of poor decision seasoning all added to a pandemic and the loss of a parent is going to beat the hobbies out of you, but still…

    It’s hard to take time to do something as simple as read a book, or scribble a picture when you are basically trapped in a situation that requires you to either be building, thinking about building, raising the money to keep building. This is one of those times where the only way out is through, and believe me I have run all the simulations. I know if I can just keep juggling and shuffling there is a good chance I will be done by July, and moved shortly afterwards. At which point money should sort itself out and stress should return to normal levels. I’m kind of counting on it, and by kinda I mean completely counting on it.

    So tomorrow I will be back in the truck heading to cabin with a bunch of materials purchased on credit that hopefully I can pay for next month by selling some furniture and other tat. Working hard enough to keep myself too exhausted to worry and then coming home to a bowl of cereal and valium.

    But maybe this time next year I will be back being the affable wanderer that spends his days drinking coffee and filling sketchbooks with something other than building plans and shopping lists.

  • Not Sustainable…

    I didn’t go to the farm today. I also didn’t achieve anything productive in town. Which means I’m basically feeling like a decomposing sack of potatoes as I sit here on the couch wondering when the indigestion from the frozen quiche is going to arrive before the heart attack from all the salt. My stomach hurts from having too much food today, because obviously home and bored means eat stuff and I can feel the tension in every muscle because I didn’t work them into the submissive jello like consistency required to stop anxiety attacks from constantly trying to tense them into a cramp.

    I’m incredibly aware that suddenly throwing myself into constant work at the farm is just another form of self medication to keep me focusing on [waves arms theatrically] other things. Currently the exhaustion and occasional light injuries are the only the thing I have to look forward to, and that really isn’t sustainable, let alone healthy.

    The problem is I can’t actually see any other solution at this point than to just keep going and hope I stumble arse-backwards into a solution to any time/money problems, or an artery blocks up from all the TV dinners and kills me. Did I mention taking the day off isn’t a treat anymore? Most of my concentration today went into writing a 10 page to do list in my notebook. This became necessary because the previous 4 page list that was meant to take me up to the end of the month was finished 2 days ago. I underestimated the amount of manic activity required to stop me getting a bit sad about [waves arms theatrically again] my life. Oh and all the Christmas stuff that is everywhere can go and do one because I don’t have the time, money of goodwill to spare on that tinsel nightmare.

    I’m really starting to wonder exactly how much longer I can keep this up, because I’m pretty sure I am now the world’s third largest producer of cortisol.

  • Bursting…

    Occasionally I have these periods of getting stuff done in a hurry. Sometimes they are just before or after a period of being down and unmotivated. I wonder if they have a name for that?

    Anyway as I can’t guarantee how long this little shot of energy is going to last, I am going to focus on the laundry list of cabin jobs. Top of the list is internal framing so I can get the wiring done. Having a deadline for the electrician is really motivating me to get everything ready so it’s just a wiring job with no other work (and costs) involved. The money ran out a while back so everything is either funded by selling stuff off, or juggling credit cards in the Grand Designs tradition. I’m resisting the other troupe of “in by Christmas” because even I am not that delusional, but maybe Christmas lunch in something that looks like a house may be possible, even if there’s no running water and people need to pee in the woods.

    Another encouraging thing about all the work that is going on, is the amount of materials that are now part of the building, instead of constantly in the way. I’m really looking forward to getting the long ceiling timbers installed so I can stop tripping over them. I’m reluctant to buy anymore materials at this point of the build as I suspect I already have enough for a lot of jobs, and I would rather not be tying up funds that could be used elsewhere.

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  • Absolutely Stunning…

    An absolutely stunning lack of awareness has been a reoccurring theme in my life, and not just self-awareness because that is kind of expected. While I can spot a rare piece of midcentury pottery from two stores away, my situational awareness for human interactions is almost zero.

    Recently I went to see a movie with someone and it took me a week of them not talking to me to make me realize the subject of the film had raised issues for them that I failed to process at the time. And I can’t apologize for it as it’s now firmly in the dreaded: I will just make it worse, or even more horrible make it about myself. So I guess I’ll just let that one simmer, which I guess means eventually evaporating completely or boiling over and ruining everything.

    There is no third option.

    I’m starting to think that not all the spectrum dust sprinkled onto my children came from the wife’s side of the family. I just assumed they got her brains and my anxiety and decent eyesight. Maybe they got dusted from both sides? Or possibly I am just emotionally broken from external events? I would prefer it was genetically hardwired to be honest, because that would mean I wasn’t 100% to blame for constantly having my head in the clouds, or up butt depending who you ask.

    Maybe I don’t have the bandwidth to run all the emotions at once? I have definitely been deeply in love and I am sure that took all of my function braincells and funneled it into grand romance mode, which ends badly as you might imagine. At various stages I have been good at one thing at a time, or at least most adequate. Partner, parent, child, friend…but I struggled to juggle two let alone three. Probably why I am so damn miserable these days as I am pretty much a machine to fix the farm and side hustle enough cash to keep a roof over my head and the kids feed (both human and fur). I would love to convince myself that I was capable of finding even a tiny bit of balance, but the universe seems to be pretty keen on stomping on my fingers if I attempt to try pulling myself out of the current ditch. Of course I’m also just as likely to bite the hand of anyone that tries reaching into the ditch to help me out. Please don’t mistake the tortured metaphors for a cry for help, I am pretty sure the “bite your hand” was more of a disclaimer than a metaphor.

    As I said at the beginning I am awful at being a person, awful at human interactions… but maybe that counts as a small step towards self awareness?

  • Magic Smoke…

    As any technically minded individual will be able to tell you all electronic devices have an inner core of magic smoke that makes them function. Which is why when you see a puff of smoke escaping from your laptop it doesn’t work anymore, because of the lack of aforementioned magic smoke.

    Although I am not a doctor, I’m sure humans also function pretty much the same way. You start out with a full tank of magic smoke as a child and you keep going until it all escapes. Unlike a blender or a hairdryer all the smoke doesn’t just escape at once, it leaks out slowly over the years. For some it lasts years and you trundle along decade after decade till you just fizzle out one day, for others you come out of the factory a faulty tank that never held a full charge, which seems unfair and someone should off some kind of warranty.

    So barring a manufacturing fault or accidental tank rupture you get around 70-80 years of use out of your body before the smoke gets out. That seemed like a lot longer when I was 20. Hell it seemed like a lot longer even five years ago. Something taking a couple of years at 30 is a lot less concerning than something taking a couple of years at 55.

    Lately there has been an increasing sense of urgency about getting back to having a life, but I am not sure how. The work seems endless and my motivation and energy is definitely finite. I have been relying pretty heavily on the universe just working it out for me and showing me a great big glowing neon sign with the solution in it, but so far not so much as quick note saying NORMAL SERVICE WILL RESUME SHORTLY.

    I’m starting to think I need to come up with my own plan, and make sure I don’t let my magic smoke just slowly escape while I am not paying attention.

  • The Wall…

    I’ve hit the wall, again…and I am struggling to push past it this time. I’m exhausted not just from the work but also from the keeping a smile on my face at the same time. Well maybe not a smile, more of a blank stare and an idiot grin. I can’t even tell if it’s physically or mentally drained that’s the problem? It’s both but I am not sure of the ratio.

    Relationships are suffering, even the cat is a bit moody. I don’t blame him as I promised hime picture windows and birds to look at, and he hasn’t gotten what he signed up for when I adopted/catnapped him. I am starting to think covid isolation fundamentally broke something in me. My only regular adult human contact during that time was basically my father, and just as life started to settle down he died and my ability to interact like a regular human died with him.

    Honestly if it wasn’t for the internet I would be mainly talking to the cat, and he is largely limited to purring, meowing, and occasionally biting my ankles as I walk past. All very endearing but mentally stimulating it’s not. Maybe getting more cats would help? It might but let’s call that plan B.

    I could really use a tick or two in the win column at the moment. A small lotto win, maybe? Unlikely as I don’t play. Meeting a like minded person to do things with? Also unlikely as I leave the house to go to the farm and that’s about it, and while it’s picturesque as all get out there, it’s not vibrant social scene, and dating outside your species is frowned upon out there (these days).

    I keep telling myself if I can just hold it all together for a bit longer it will be fine. I will stumble ass-backwards into a solution to everything and it will all be fine. I am aware this is not a healthy method of dealing with the situation, but spiraling into depression and inaction ain’t great either.

    All this because my plan for the day to visit an art gallery with the younger child was derailed, and because the cat staring at a brick wall instead of trees made me sad. The crushing weight of world gone mad comes in second to a disappointed offspring and a dramatic cat…

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  • Just in case…

    Today at the farm I saw a tawny frogmouth owl. I have never seen one there (or anywhere) before, let alone a stones throw from where I was. I will acknowledge that they have a very effective camouflage routine of pretending to be a branch so it’s possible it has been there and I haven’t seen it.

    I will just say in advance that I hold zero religious beliefs including any about reincarnation etc, but… this owl looked damn familiar. If my father was coming back as something it would be this serious grey bearded loner.

    Before leaving the farm I told the owl he was welcome to stay and he would be safe here… and then I added “and just in case it is you I need you to stay”…

  • Zero Day…

    To steal the nomenclature of hikers I am taking a zero day, a day to rest and recover and make no progress on the hike. Though I will probably do a thousand miles in my head thinking about jobs that need doing and budgets that won’t be met.

    I would love to claim the day off was because I have enough sense to back off occasionally when the stress on my body is starting to creep up, but it’s mainly because I have to drive someone else to a medical appointment today. The irony of the appointment not being for me hasn’t gone unnoticed. I also lifted something that would definitely had one of those warning stickers with two people required to lift on it. I’m the one on the left.

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  • Bite Size…

    Today was a day off from working on the the cabin, so I set the fire to the beacons. Yes I did say Gondor calls for aid! as the flames took hold.

    There is something about tending a fire that pushes everything else out of my mind for a while. It’s a task that requires me to just focus on feeding the flames and not letting it get out of control. I rarely get to focus on a single task for 8-9 hours especially something without a set goal, other than burn off some timber and stumps before summer gets here. Large piles of dead wood is not ideal during bushfire season, or during snake season.

    I wasn’t even pretending that I was going to clear this lot today, as it just isn’t possible to have to large a fire while I am alone, and if I am not staying the night. I did however make quite a dent before I had to start letting the fire burn itself out. Maybe a third, maybe a little more from the pile that came from all the driveway and drainage works.

    I would also like it to be done by spring so all the grass and plants can grow back. I am really missing the green leafy trees at the moment.

  • The Things We Can’t Leave Behind…

    I am not religious, never have been. Raised by atheists and ignored by the usual recruitment wings of school scriptures or those child catchers that cults send out to pinball arcades and roller rinks*.

    I do however believe The Serenity Prayer is a good mantra to embrace. I know it has basically nothing to do with religion other than starting with the word God, that’s probably what put me off initially. However as I have gotten older and my baggage heavier I am trying to find a little more acceptance of my past crimes** both real and imagined. I am working on the changing the stuff I can part everyday and then trying to accept being a bit crap at it sometimes. The wisdom to know the difference could turn up a bit more quickly and often if I’m being honest, but it definitely seems more abundant than it was in my youth.

    I have started to accept that the annoying troubled youth had to happen for me to that change is possible, because that guy was an absolute bellend.

    *That may have just been a story my mother told me to keep me from hanging out with the tough kids that smoked and played pacman.

    **Not actual crimes you narc!