Getting Funky
I've started tutoring a young lady whose writing is even more scattered than mine. I'm really impressed.
In other news, a poetry collection is brewing! I decided to go with Untold Tales; that's its working title at the moment anyway. It's a slow process.
Everything seems like a slow process. There are even certain, dumb, app games that I like largely because it's a slow process. I do kinda wish various projects were a bit faster. Technically, I could complete them faster, but it requires a lot of energy and focus.
I probably have the energy and focus — just not the discipline. Woof.
But the feeling of a disciplined day is so much better than a haphazard day.
Sometimes, I think of myself as haphazard, but, mostly, I'm to-the-point, decisive, maybe a little impatient. There are some days, however, when I really am haphazard, and I can feel it hanging on me like soggy clothes: not actively painful but heavy and uncomfortable. Things just feel sticky, clammy, sluggish.
I had a funk day yesterday. I'm not talkin' getting funky dance party funk. I'm talking brain fry unfocused funk. I had a conversation with an old friend. Is friend the right word? I wanted him to be a friend, but he hasn't really been a friend. It's a set of long stories, but I had this conversation, and the same talk came up, the same patterns. I don't know if I was much different. I think the only change I chose was, instead of trying to justify myself, I simply explained what I was going to do.
Super vague, but, basically, he asked me a favor to which I agreed, then the details of the favor changed, so I explained I couldn't work with the new plan. He got real uppity real fast.
There was a time when I would try to appease, and I'd leave the conversation feeling manipulated and gloomy. I still felt a little gloomy. It reminded me of the past. But it wasn't consuming like it has been in the past. It was just a poop day.
I often feel like I'm crazy. This isn't the good crazy though. This is the crazy of thinking I probably did it wrong, and I'm all wrong, and I'm heartless and inconsiderate.
But I'm not! I'm not heartless and inconsiderate. I can be moody. Oblivious sometimes. Needy sometimes. But I'm not heartless. The crazy crux is when I consider that this friend might actually be the draining one, the cutting one.
In other other news, I gotta figure out how to implement writing times at any given moment. I gotta set up my plans and write when the iron is hot. My time undulates, and I often have free time that I didn't plan to use well, so it flutters away as cheap activities.
I think one of my most prominent skills is convincing myself that it's not time to write. I'm gonna go ahead and guess that that's one of every writer's prominent skills. Still, I feel guilty about it.
I'm looking forward to the library though! I created this elaborate library adventure! Shoot, not a library. A bookstore. Whatever. Lots of books! And largeness!
That's about all for today.
Goodbye.
In other news, a poetry collection is brewing! I decided to go with Untold Tales; that's its working title at the moment anyway. It's a slow process.
Everything seems like a slow process. There are even certain, dumb, app games that I like largely because it's a slow process. I do kinda wish various projects were a bit faster. Technically, I could complete them faster, but it requires a lot of energy and focus.
I probably have the energy and focus — just not the discipline. Woof.
But the feeling of a disciplined day is so much better than a haphazard day.
Sometimes, I think of myself as haphazard, but, mostly, I'm to-the-point, decisive, maybe a little impatient. There are some days, however, when I really am haphazard, and I can feel it hanging on me like soggy clothes: not actively painful but heavy and uncomfortable. Things just feel sticky, clammy, sluggish.
I had a funk day yesterday. I'm not talkin' getting funky dance party funk. I'm talking brain fry unfocused funk. I had a conversation with an old friend. Is friend the right word? I wanted him to be a friend, but he hasn't really been a friend. It's a set of long stories, but I had this conversation, and the same talk came up, the same patterns. I don't know if I was much different. I think the only change I chose was, instead of trying to justify myself, I simply explained what I was going to do.
Super vague, but, basically, he asked me a favor to which I agreed, then the details of the favor changed, so I explained I couldn't work with the new plan. He got real uppity real fast.
There was a time when I would try to appease, and I'd leave the conversation feeling manipulated and gloomy. I still felt a little gloomy. It reminded me of the past. But it wasn't consuming like it has been in the past. It was just a poop day.
I often feel like I'm crazy. This isn't the good crazy though. This is the crazy of thinking I probably did it wrong, and I'm all wrong, and I'm heartless and inconsiderate.
But I'm not! I'm not heartless and inconsiderate. I can be moody. Oblivious sometimes. Needy sometimes. But I'm not heartless. The crazy crux is when I consider that this friend might actually be the draining one, the cutting one.
In other other news, I gotta figure out how to implement writing times at any given moment. I gotta set up my plans and write when the iron is hot. My time undulates, and I often have free time that I didn't plan to use well, so it flutters away as cheap activities.
I think one of my most prominent skills is convincing myself that it's not time to write. I'm gonna go ahead and guess that that's one of every writer's prominent skills. Still, I feel guilty about it.
I'm looking forward to the library though! I created this elaborate library adventure! Shoot, not a library. A bookstore. Whatever. Lots of books! And largeness!
That's about all for today.
Goodbye.
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