Welcome to one of those steam of consciousness nights where I really have nothing to write about but still feel that the press of keys beneath my fingers makes me writer. A true writer, of course, writes and does the work. I’m writing for these ten minutes. Feels good to write something today. While it has been a chill weekend it also feels like the final approach to the front of the line at the roller coaster. I know things are about to take off and get very crazy. Likewise, I recognize that I’ll soon have a great deal to write about but, realistically, little time to devote to the actual craft. This feels like my lot in life as of late. I am familiar with it and not exactly a fan.
In short, I need to get a better grip on time and life management because neither has offered to wait or slow down for me at all. That leads to the question, what do I want that life to look like day to day? What am I making time for? How are the weekends different from the weekdays? Where is my bliss? I know where I find a great deal of it, but I cannot survive on those sweet moments. I feel as if I need more to sustain me. Now I’m getting very metaphorical and deep, yet not saying anything concrete.
I suppose this is what happens when you start out with nothing to really say.
Some Thoughts:
- Still not doing the work.
- Ravens lost. Badly. Turns out the Titans are the real deal–even without any real ability to throw the ball. I think it gives the Giants a legitimate blueprint.
- I miss Minecraft, but there is nothing to listen to worth playing for.