For today’s stroll down memory lane we are going back to August 2018, post 3.43. I called this one Writer’s Day, because it was about finding the mind and space to write every day for two hours. Looking back, that was a good thought but one that was doomed to personal failure. It actually took another two years to get to a two hours a day plan and even then it has continued to be riddled with fits and starts. I wrote then, “I have no expectation of living and not writing. I don’t believe I could or would exist peacefully in such a state. Even now when the ideas seem like the lone protozoa in an ocean of vapid thought” Yet the other day I questioned if I was going to continue writing, purely based on the how it impacts my life. It seems there is life without writing, and that life consists of basking in the presence of my lover… and video games. The thought that there is two hours of the day I can set aside daily that doesn’t include one of those two things feels tough. I don’t know that it actually exists at present, though I am fortunate enough to have a partner who wants to make that a reality at least four to five days of the week.
Maybe the real of my life is compromise. Writing seven days a week is soothing in the sense of having a routine, yet draining in the sense of never having a real chance to refresh. The lack of refresh has hounded me over the past few years and I have, honestly, struggled to stay creative as a result. Perhaps in my search for compromise, I find two days where I don’t write, and lock in more time and consistency on the days that I do.