I like the welding thing in particular. Its of little use to me in my life, but just the learning process was of benefit.
Its a different kind of focus when you know that a wrong move will electrocute you. (230V AC arc welding). I learned a lot about my own learning style that day.
My experience welding left me with a phobia of all things electric. A mild phobia, but irrational as any risk blown out of proportion by the panicked human mind.
Power lines trail the countryside and cityscape, competing in ubiquity only with roads and fast food restaurants. In this I am also mildly agoraphobic, as one cannot leave the homestead without being stared down by the thick black cables, taunting and intimidating from their creosote imbued perches.
My mom said it was just a matter of time, the fear had been building for months, slowly.
You might be interested to know that I write in such a style to obscure myself from style analyzing techniques. Not to hide the face of my persona from the likes of nsa bogeymen. My mother would die if she found out the extent of what I am going through. Good samaritans trying to help by telling her would only make it worse. I find the writing pretentious and sickening.
At the end of everything I write I am tempted to justify my phrasing and word choice. I am smart enough to know though that making yourself conspicuous only makes you suspicious in the eyes of of most people.
The people you need to worry about most are the ones you who do not appear on your radar. They are rats, you do not know they are in your midst until you find their shit in the morning.
Its a different kind of focus when you know that a wrong move will electrocute you. (230V AC arc welding). I learned a lot about my own learning style that day.