I had a mini panic attack last night when I realized that we are officially half way through summer vacation. Life is rushing by faster than I would like it to be. I blame Tyler. :) Every moment spent with him I find lasts forever, and then is gone within the second. This summer has been romantic, busy, relaxing, and disappointing all at the same time.
My disappointment stems from the most self-hating reason I can ultimately think of: I haven't written substantially at all this summer. Since June 13th, I've kept with myself a confidential journal and compilation of letters to Tyler that only he and I can read, and it's kept my thoughts and my doubts contained and controlled. I haven't, however, written one chapter for my novel, nor have I written two pages for a short story. Not even one. The three times I've forced myself to try, I sat staring numbly into space, my mind and my thoughts whizzing about my head sporadically.
Lucky for me, I happened to stumble upon something earlier this week. I regret to say that I have no idea where I read it, or when I found it, where, why, etc. BUT. I specifically remember receiving the message and taking it to heart. Basically, someone said that 90% of the time, the writer is staring off into space, thinking wildly of other things than actually writing. I think that's how it is for me. Because this blog is an excellent example of this. My last post was a month ago! It took me a month to think of something else to write about, while during that month I did god knows what.
Today's credit in getting me to write something goes to my friend Brett, whose admittedly dark and negative blog inspired me. Who would have thought? I've been searching for my long lost inspiration for a very long time, and only just now finding it within the depths of words written almost nonchalantly from a very good friend.
The only obstacle facing me is the restlessness I feel everyday, and the shifts I need to cover at work. How I look at my days is much more different than how my days really are. For example, I see ten percent of my day being slept through, then two hours consumed by facebook and wandering around like a ghost. Another two hours in just my usual mini-adventure in getting TO the bus stop, then taking the bus to work. Most of my afternoon and evening is spent working, and then I come home and ten percent of my night lift is used reading, sleeping, or writing to my boyfriend in a pathetic little composition notebook recently used for my pathetic Health-class notes.
In reality, what free time I have is spent doing absolutely useless things, and then the productive things I do is consumed by work.
That's why when I have a day off, I do everything in my power to make sure I do or hang out with someone worth hanging out with. Does that make sense? I'm sure it does.
That's all that I feel I have to say for this particular post. I have more to say for today, since I just barely earned back my want to write write write. I'm going to begin a brand new post though, because it's its own topic.