So I’m working. Lots of work. Work all month, work next month. Deadlines, freelance. Deadlines, writing—but those are the fun ones. Life though, it piles up. Woke this morning to THE FEAR. We know each other well, THE FEAR and I, but we’re not friends. The lack of a Twitter stream does help me, but I’m not cured entirely of my bad habits. Not yet.
My mom says it takes something like four months to change your daily routines. Must. Keep. Trying. It’s been, what? Not even a week?
For example, I’m right now (1) reworking some facts in chapter one of my novel while (2) listening to Space Oddity while (3) taking breaks to read Dear Sugar columns while (4) looking up old Liz Phair songs while (5) keeping a running list of possible title ideas while (6) looking up Borges stories while (7) checking in on Jezebel while (8) wishing a dear friend happy birthday while (9) mapping out my freelance schedule while (10) texting with my baby sister while (11) signing a book to send off at the post office while (12) wishing I’d brought a Band-Aid while (13) rereading chapter two while (14) IM’ing with E while (15) cracking my neck while (16) thinking of The Road, which I just saw and which I thought was the most brilliant dystopian while (17) wondering if I could ever write a story that important while (18) instead just writing this blog post.
It never ends, does it? Social networking is not the problem. The problem is dear old me.
For my next trick, I’ll shut myself up in a discarded refrigerator without cell phone or internet and… write a couple novels or something. When I come out, if I come out, I’ll be a whole new me.
I would like to learn to meditate. I regret not learning at Yaddo when I had the chance. You may think it’s simple, but for someone so addled it’s near impossible to sit still for a half hour not-thinking. It was recommended to me to try going here.
So add (19) wondering if I should learn how to meditate, if that would help?
Back to (1).