Y’know, usually when I buy something I opt to use it.
I’ve been working on and off on an article, a concept, for about three months now – inspired by a flight across my country for my responsibilities and beholden to my irresponsibilities. Pieces and fragments of thoughts and voice clips all tied together to make sense of a place, a thing, a person…
And you know what? Non-technical writing is really difficult.
My day-to-day affairs have me working in extremely dry, technical matters- cybersecurity documentation for the most part, with a dash of production instruction and shell scripting for flavor. I have a very nice keyboard and pair of headphones to keep my fingers moving up and down in places in accordance with cadence and timing such that the English language is produced, very much in spite of the other tasks and conversations that can intrude on my work.
Stick with me here – I’m going to try and explain my malaise with computer parts.
About a year and a half ago, my wrists started to hurt like mad. Blame could be placed squarely at the feet of the keyboard I was using at work – a smallish unit that kept my wrists at uncomfortable angles all day. Eight hours of tippity-tappety carpal’d my tunnels rather efficiently. It was the easiest (but not the cheapest) thing in the world to justify exploring a means of making my wrist-meat less uncomfortable by researching a more ergonomic keyboard that would fit both my needs and my lifestyle. Something that wouldn’t be too far removed from what I was used to, because some designs are just too wild for me to keep my pace on. Something with quiet keys so I don’t disturb my coworkers.
I settled on a Keychron V10, outfitted with Kailh Deep-Sea silenced linear keys and a set of PBT side-shine keycaps. This quickly cemented itself as one of the most important changes to my work-life I could have possibly made. I had to do my research, assemble the whole thing switch by switch and key by key… But when I actually put in the time, I improved.
So why am I rambling about my insane keyboard addiction and flaunting the slow degeneration of my desk?
Because I am perfectly capable of spending money to resolve my woes and dilemmas and make the things that are hurting me go away.
Because when I buy something, I tend to use it.
And I haven’t felt like using this space I’ve built for myself.
WHY?!
A year ago, my life took a hard step to the left and I wound up in and out of an infusion chair for six months, as chemical agents were pushed into my body through a hole in my chest. Something inside me needed to die.
Die it did, thanks to some of the most wonderful people I could ever have the privilege of knowing. Die it did, and I was given the opportunity to grow older. I still don’t know how much I lost (though I now know what an out of pocket maximum is), but it’s hard not to be grateful when what one gains are more years with those one loves most.
Here we are though, some four months after my treatment ended, and I don’t know if I came back the same to the world. I’m slower now, words limp forth to my fingers where they used to crowd for attention like suckling piglets. Mustering the patience to read a book or compose a letter are exercises in agony in most circumstances. I used to read the news to keep my mind occupied; for various reasons, it is now easier to succumb to the algorithms of Instagram and scroll to my own doom.
This blog thought-space ramblehouse concept thing all started because I am so sick of sitting on my damn phone all day doing fuck all and having nothing to show for it. It eats into my waking hours, my sleeping hours, my time to eat and drink and breathe. This menace, this addiction-cube sits in my palm feeding me scraps of dopamine and cortisol in even measures.
What do I need forced into my chest to make this beast scream?
I bought this space on the web to have not only a place, but a reason to write again. Started in journalism, used to write short stories, took pleasure in the written word to let out some of the pressure in this mind. But the initial rush of happiness I got when I found out One Duck’s Goose was an available domain space has been splintered across the bow of an enormous oil tanker burning dirty fuel through my mind. The name that set on this ship is Apathy and her sailors never sleep.
Someday I’ll shoot the captain of this ship and sink her to the depths where she belongs. I’ve sent it to dry-dock before. I fixed my damn wrists when they hurt. I fought cancer and won.
I should be able to write a few words on a screen.
Dear reader, whomever you are, expect more from me.
– Goose
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