Not a Clever Title

I usually try to come up with some manner of clever title, but I'm not bothering this time. This will be mostly just a rambling bit of nonsense, but perhaps it will help me to get somewhere; and if I'm lucky someone else else might find it at least mildly amusing.

Of late I have spent my time at work, writing in my journal, eating and sleeping, or playing video games. (Games of choice have been Borderlands 2, DotA 2, and Guild Wars 2... I just now realized they are all sequels...) You will not a distinct lack of working on my actual writing projects in there.
I don't have--and am not going to try to create--an excuse for that, I've just been lazy and unmotivated. I haven't wanted to do much of anything lately, which has been rather terrible. Of things that have attempted to hold my interest and get me to be productive, two I think are meaningful.
It keeps being suggested to me through various people and in various ways that I should try to start a sort of tech support business. Specifically one scaled to individual use and small business operations. Why this seems like a good idea is because of the mass numbers of technologically-challenged people, and the other large mass of people who are tech-savvy, but really don't want to try and explain things to the plebes, or just don't have time to constantly be fixing their friend's machine. So I've been kicking the idea around a bit, trying to get a feel for how it might work--and perhaps more importantly, if I could make money off it without hating every moment of it.
Second thing--which is considerably more interesting--has been a game idea that quite literally sprung into my head almost fully formed. My wife and I have been working on it off and on this week, and I hope to get it into at least a play-testable state by this weekend. I won't reveal too much at this point, but suffice to say it is a card-based game revolving around gaining political influence at court, and uses a tarot deck as the primarily played cards. Provided I can make the game work and balance, I'll start doing play-tests with my gaming friends, and if it actually turns out to be enjoyable at all then I think I might try to Kickstart it into something meaningful.

Aside from these, work has been mind-numbingly boring and exhausting as anything I've ever done. For the longest time I could not figure out how incredibly simple office work could manage to make me so tired, but yesterday I think I finally figured it out. My mind wants to run, but simple office work forces it to crawl.
I need to concentrate on a simple repetitive task until it is finished; unfortunately it is in no possible way capable of actually holding my interest, so I have to constantly exert willpower to force my thoughts back on task. When I have to do this near-constantly for 5 to 8 hours, it becomes a near-painful drain on my energy. If on top of the mindless repetitive tasks I have to try and coordinate and communicate with other people on them, then it just becomes something of my own personal hell. Not only do I need to stay on task; I now have to slow down thoughts to a level that I can interact with coworkers on, and try to explain what I'm doing and why--which is hard enough to do with intellectual people and without any insult intended I do not work with intellectual people.

So long story short, work is way more exhausting than it has any right to be, which leads to me not having energy at the end of the day to force myself to sit and write, or read, or hit the gym, or basically anything else. Something here needs to change... Please?

-Matthew

Hope Deferred

We had staked a lot of our hopes on a job offer that would have more than covered our expenses and given me the freedom to actually spend my time on writing instead of work.

It was turned down at the eleventh hour.

Now we are struggling to decide what to do and where to go. For now I'm trapped at work the same as I have been. Eventually I hope to escape.
Hope for now is deferred in favor of survival. For now I need what energy I have just to get through each day. For now all I can do is pray that the next step in the dark is illumined before my feet. For now... all I can do is keep placing the next foot forward, and trust that there will be solid ground beneath it.

-Matthew

Bladed Mind

The three of them--Trace, Hethir, and the Archbishop--were in a tiny room lit by a single torch. On a bare table before them rested the strange sword. They had run hard, hoping to get the sword out of influence of anyone else. The Archbishop had pulled them aside into a hidden passage, and finally into the cell they now occupied. Buried beneath at least ten feet of stone in each direction, Hethir figured it should block the sword from controlling anyone--at least that's what he hoped.

Additional Posts Pending

I'm making another go at Nanowrimo, historically it has been a good time for me to get some actual progress made on something, so I'm dumping pretty much everything into it. Because of that I'm not sure if I'll be able to keep Hethir's story flowing steadily. I'm hoping to keep a post coming every week, but if I slide, that's why.

Bloodstains in the Temple

Hethir and the Archbishop sprinted right on the heels of Trace and a few other knights as they wound through the temple. "They're trying to break through to the vaults!" Shouted a knight ahead of them. He clutched at his sword arm, trying to staunch the blood that poured around his fingers. For a moment the Archbishop began to slow, reaching a hand out towards the man, but the knight gestured forward with his chin. "They need you more than me, I'll live! Go!"
Hethir wasn't sure he believed the knight--there was a good-sized pool of blood beneath him--but didn't feel like arguing, the man wouldn't be able to help them anyhow. Turning a corner, Hethir gets his first sight of the combatants. It was definitely not what he expected.

Nightmare Reality

When you lie in bed at night, and your mind seems to run wild over uncharted fields of imagination, there inevitably arise those patches that shock, horrify, and terrify. Nightmares we call them, and mature individuals are told to shrug them off, they don't mean anything anyway.
But what if that advice is wrong?

Circles in Circles

The Archbishop led Hethir to a small chamber, only the two of them were admitted in. Mary, Garius and Val were brought chairs--Hethir was honestly surprised to see that they were padded and looked rather comfortable; he had expected differently. Inside, the room was bare to a fault. The walls looked to be rough stone crudely scraped smooth, the floor only improved by thousands of footfalls having worn it smooth. There were no ornaments or furnishings; and the room's only other notable feature was a round stone table set in the exact center of the room.
That was merely the physical appearance of the chamber.