#oneaday Day 532: Knackered

I'm absolutely exhausted, and I'm not entirely sure why. I guess this week has been a bit of a busy one with a trip to the office, and just before said trip I was ill, so I think I'm probably still feeling the lingering (after)effects of being ill. Or possibly just still being ill. Either way, it's 8pm and I just want to go to bed, so as soon as we've had some dinner, that's what I'm going to do.

Everything just feels so tiring these days — mentally, more than anything. I am beyond tired of the revolting end-stage capitalism hellscape we live in right now, and long for the AI bubble in particular to pop, if only so people can stop posting screenshots of Google's AI summaries and think that doing this, in any way, proves any sort of point. That and it would be super-cool if all the software everyone uses goes back to being functional and useful rather than having fucking chatbots everywhere.

It's frustrating. I was listening to Cory Doctorow and Ed Zitron talking about the whole "enshittification" thing earlier, and their conclusion is that as individual consumers, there unfortunately isn't a whole lot that we can do to stand up to this nonsense, because it's all happening at a corporate or even governmental level so far beyond the scale of one individual, it's impossible to do anything about. They do, however, note that that doesn't mean there's nothing you can do; they cite the example of attending Town Hall meetings and voicing your concerns about financially and environmentally ruinous data centres being constructed. Even so, though, this seems largely like an American thing — I don't even know if "Town Hall meetings" are a thing here — and, again, it's hard not to feel like a little ant about to be crushed by corporate authoritarianism.

I'd ignore all this shit completely if I could, but it's everywhere — and particularly getting its tendrils into things I actually care about, such as the creative sectors and particularly video games. The new Call of Duty is absolutely riddled with AI art, for example; Ubisoft's latest Anno game has "placeholder" AI art loading screens that definitely aren't just being called placeholders because they got caught; and it seems like every day, a new corporation decides that yes, the absolute best thing to do, despite the general public reacting universally negatively to it every time it happens, is to pivot to an "AI-first" approach, inevitably laying off swathes of the workforce in the process.

I thank my lucky stars I have a stable (I hope) job in the middle of all this, and that AI doesn't interfere with my job any more than having to ignore annoying sparkly buttons in social media management tools and occasionally telling people off for getting ChatGPT to "write" minor things when I'm right here and can do that for them in a matter of seconds without burning a fucking lake down.

God. The "future" sucks. It's a cliché to say at this point, but we really have taken the exact opposite lessons from "cyberpunk" and futuristic dystopia literature than were intended by their authors. We have all the negative aspects of a corporate-dominated end-stage capitalism hellscape, and none of the cool stuff like consumer-grade bionic arms and sex robots. (Well, okay. They're almost certainly working on the sex robot thing, though if it ends up being LLM-powered I'm not sure anyone is going to want to fuck ChatGPT.)

Is it any surprise I'm knackered when just existing through all this nonsense is draining the life force and will to live out of all of us? Probably not. So I'm going to enjoy my KFC and then go to bed.

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1877: Aaaaand We're Back

Made it home, though my last flight from Dublin back to Southampton was delayed by two hours and the heating appeared to be broken in the part of Dublin's airport that I had to wait for my flight in. It was very cold indeed and not the sort of experience I wanted before 7am. But the time eventually passed — assisted partly by Criminal Girls, whose "Education Block" chapter has made the whole experience very much worthwhile — and I got on the noisy shed-with-wings that was to carry me back to my home town, and that was that.

Unfortunately, the two-hour delay meant that I missed out on a few hours of work (and, consequently, money) today, but there's not a lot I can do about that, unfortunately. I have several hours of work tomorrow, though, so that will help, and from here I can start trying to get myself into some sort of routine, working on various different things over the course of the week in an attempt to (hopefully) make ends meet somehow.

I'm a little worried about the future, to be perfectly honest. Right now it's quite difficult to determine quite how much money I'll be able to get rolling in each month, but I guess that's something I'll be able to figure out with time — coupled with determining how much time I need to spend chasing paying work up, and how much time I have to pursue other projects which may or may not lead to something. It's anxiety-inducing, but at least it's not stressful and soul-destroying in the same way that being systematically bullied out of a "regular" job has proven to be on more than one occasion in my life. So I guess there's that.

In the meantime, I have some fond memories of the weekend just gone to look back on, and I'm glad about that. We've already been confusing people with talk of vampire zombie maids and poisonous war elephants, and it's clear that everyone had a good time, albeit an exhausting one.

I shall sleep extremely well tonight, I'm sure. At 20 past 10 in the evening, I'm struggling to keep my eyes open; I did the final boss of Syrcus Tower in Final Fantasy XIV mostly with my eyes shut. (It's quite easy.) So I think it's probably time to admit defeat to the exhaustion of the last few days that has finally caught up with me, slump into bed and fall asleep. That, at least, is satisfying; while I'm sad to have left my friends behind, it's also good to be home, and back to my own bed.

1823: Pondering Free Time

I think I'm bowing out of the creative writing project for the moment. I may revisit it at some point in the future, but for now I need to stop. It's stressing me out a bit — not because of the subject matter which, as regular commenter Jud pointed out, is, to an extent, drawn from my personal experience (albeit not the more fantastic stuff), but rather because… well, look at the clock.

I got home from work about ten minutes ago. I am exhausted. I spend up to three hours of my day travelling to and from work thanks to an absolutely hellish commute that I can't see a way around (aside from just quitting, which isn't a practical or desirable option), which means that on weekdays up to 12 hours of my time is taken up with Stuff I Have To Do rather than Stuff I Want To Do. This makes the few hours I have in the evenings to actually do Stuff I Want To Do extremely precious to me, and churning out 1,500-2,000 words a day in a story where I'm not entirely sure where it's heading eats into that time and is starting to feel a bit like an obligation rather than something fun to do.

I like writing. I really like writing. I wouldn't have been posting this bullshit for 1,823 days if I didn't. But there are days when I need a break, and to relax, and to post something that just vents a bit of steam, or gives thanks to a higher power for an entertaining dog I saw on the street or something like that. I've always said with regard to this blog that the moment it starts feeling like work rather than something I actually want to do, I need to stop. So far that hasn't happened — it's come close a few times, but I've always managed to find something to write about day after day, even if the post ends up being little more than a glorified diary entry. (Still, those posts can often be the ones that spark the most conversations or give you, dear readers, the best insights into what goes on inside the messed-up mind I call my own.)

The stuff I've been writing, though, I need a break. That is feeling like work, and given how tired I am when I get in of an evening, more "work" is the last thing I want to think about. I want to sit down, have some dinner, watch some TV, play some games, go to bed and then repeat the whole hideous process over and over again until it's time for a weekend. (I really like my weekends now, which is one arguably positive thing about life having a proper job with the rest of the normal people.)

So, then, I'm sorry to anyone reading that this disappoints, but I've learned throughout my life that if you keep doing something when you don't really want to, you start to resent it, and any joy it once held for you is lost. I don't want that to happen with writing — creative fiction writing or otherwise — so it's time to take a step back, chill out, relax, and perhaps return to it at some point in the future. Or perhaps do something else entirely! Who knows. That's the joy of being freeform.

Anyway. I need to go and sit on the sofa, lean my head back and groan about how tired I am for a bit. Then eat dinner. Then play some games. Then… well, I went through the routine above.

Thanks for continuing to read!

One A Day, Day 47: And... Collapse

How I made it through this week without suffering a complete nervous breakdown I'll never know, but here I am. I am exhausted though, so this entry is going to be rather short.

Just got back from another game of Dungeon Lords. Fun game, but we're clearly still learning the ropes. Like Space Alert, though, it remains quite entertaining even when things are going horribly wrong. And that's good – games where you get behind and are then stuck there are less fun. To me anyway. Probably because I'm usually the one in last place!

I'm so knackered I can barely keep my eyes open. Time for bed now I feel, and a well-earned lie-in tomorrow morning.