24th January 2021
Not caring wipes out motivation and reduces life to a pattern of urges. In Freudian terms, the ID with a side dish of EGO. What I want served with as little consideration of the demands of others as I can get away with. These urges involve sleeping as much as possible.
That said, my physiological, safety, love, and esteem needs are sufficiently met for self-actualization (Maslow; painter must paint, writer must write, etc) to keep butting in, trying to wake me and send me to the keyboard to write. This blog is an attempt to appease self-actualization, and stop it bugging me; trying to force me to care. Off the record though it does feel a tiny bit good to blog.
5th March 2021
Today I visited the local library, in the Stretton Centre. And left with a library card and four books, my first physical borrowing of books in ages. Land, house, and a library card. Almost makes me a local - no, wait, maybe I need a drug dealer too. The knowledge I have already of the local history may help too.
I've submitted the assignment for subject two of the counselling diploma, and Niki has taken me on board as a client. Submitted a further medical certificate for Centrelink, although still waiting to see if I've been granted a further exemption. Still, my mood is lifting, slowly. Turning my energies toward reading and study once more. Even drilled holes in an old wheelbarrow I have succulents waiting to be planted in. Wait, before I forget, phoned SA Power Networks and arranged a repair of where their electricity supply wire connects with the house.
All this may be a seedbed for growth, which will hopefully include connections with people at an intellectual level. Still, my feelings and thoughts remain within me. I feel they are (or would be) neither appreciated or respected. Hence the role of words on page and screen.
For example, my interest in feminist issues is not just a matter of social justice. It is an expression of being self-identified female, and also a reaction to a conservative upbringing.