Of falterings and decreasings

There’s really something about self-challenging that moves me. It’d not be hard to find me trying to accomplish something and then adding new rules to make it harder and harder. It happens when I’m trying to write down every little piece of realization (wherever I am at the moment), or when I start creating a very methodical way of manufacturing texts, and writing them in English, and challenging myself to bring new thoughts every new month, more or less each one for each day. And now this damned chaining and these little updates when I add something to tumblr or deviantart that isn’t something that isn’t necessary in any way.

And this feeling of challenge is already unconscious. Sometimes I suddenly find myself trying to type things copied from a written text, while lipsinging to a song; different words and a different rhythm. The harder it is, the better I like it. I go as far as trying to type with one word while I air riff with another one while doing it all. It’s all for this nirvanic trance.

But even though I try having all these things done in all minor details to perfection, like noting down in my agenda all the money I spend or having things perfectly ordered in my room, it’s not unusual to find me failing. After all, what’s the point of doing it all this way when it’s a never-ending accumulation and soon these piles of things to do will be towering up again? It comes to a moment when it’s all so demanding, when I try to have energy for it all, that all I want is to sleep. And sometimes I’m so tired that I just sleep very, very early some days, and all my projects and minutely missions are gone.

People around me notice some of these efforts of mine, and it’s usual of them to say that soon I’ll no longer care to do those things. They don’t believe being hard-working is a legitimate trait of mine, just a passing fancy. They say I’ll become uncaring and more relaxed like them. Soon I’ll no longer be helping others, like them.

But so far it’s working, way longer than foreseen by them. Though I can falter one or two times with something or some days with other, though I fail with Áine for weeks before realizing it, or decrease my vigilance over mindtraps for months after the generation when it was conceived is past, and when I’m beginning to get used to the feeling that, eh, I’m not really good at writing, and when I find that I’m really on the edge of giving up of even one of these minor missions and almost being convinced that the major ones are being abandoned as well, suddenly I find myself being strong again to go on. Suddenly I’m strong to keep trying these new chances. Suddenly I’m strong to help others again, and strong to wash all the clothes I’ve let accumulate, to regain control over my finances, to engage with novelties that enchant my mind.

But I wonder if this isn’t dangerous… maybe demanding a little less from me would be good, and I’d have more free time.