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The Dangers Of Owning Your Own Time Machine

There are times, after a prolonged gaming session, that I realize that gaming only serves one practical purpose - other than the nebulous purpose of "being entertainment" - and that purpose is to burn time.
If you expect to spend any time in a waiting room, this is a fabulously well-developed tool to tackle the job.
Though I've really been enjoying Cataclysm: Dark Days Ahead lately, and even a bit of Planetside 2 (where I finally dropped my first $10 of Station Cash on the game to get some discount aircraft rocket pods and a basic gun package) I played next to nothing yesterday because I really feel I aught to be doing something more productive with my free time.

Like maybe actually use that copy of GameMaker Studio Pro I bought, write bad fan fiction, or even play something else considering I've yet to touch a lot of the games I bought during last year's holiday sales.  Dead Space 3 is on sale for half-off today, but why bother buying it when I'm achieving nothing, including play all the games I already have?

I have considered looking for work, because this substitute gig certainly is currently not giving me enough hours.  It seems rather unlikely I would be able to live on $300 a month, particularly when I'll soon be confronted with having to pay half of that toward my student loans every month.

It would be nice if I were able to develop some kickass apps and release them on my own in my free time, and those apps were to sell enough so as to solve all my problems in one fell swoop.  It feels a bit like a pipe dream, though, the hopes of an unpublished writer.  Even more so when I seem unable to harness the motivation to try.

I am feeling moderately dizzy from sitting here for so long, possibly borderline diabetes, or maybe because this office chair is getting so rickety that the very motions involved in sitting in it for a prolonged amount of time make me dizzy.  A brief burst of hail started outside, in this blustery mid-March day.  Times like this, the feeling of running out of time is palpable.  Mortality does not suit me; life's too short for a gamer.  This is a life befitting a brain in a jar hooked up to a computer, but I do not think that will be happening in my lifetime.  Even if it did, it seems rather unlikely I could afford such functional immortality.

Today, I am depressed, is what I am.  Not clinically, but for all practical purposes, although such depression is at least chemical enough that an hour at the gym will stave it off, at least briefly.  But, even if I was not feeling mildly depressed, the problem remains that time is passing and nothing is getting done.  No creative artifact is being made - my muse has given me some wonderful ideas, and I do her a disrespect to not act upon them.  It is little wonder she holds out on me sometimes.
Maybe if I could motivate myself to read this book I found at the library things will change for the better, as I think that "uncertainty" is the most prominent cause of my utter failure to progress in independent game development.  Yes, my salvation may well be sitting on my lap, and I know it, so why is it so hard to pick up?

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