A large part of the reason I have taken up this journal was to humble myself. Looking back at the fairly dramatic flourish I began with and comparing it to the sporadic (at best) updating it has received since, I can certainly say I feel humbled by that. Of course, it's only humbling instead of humiliating if one makes the effort to learn from it. I gave it some thought while on my walk today, and a few things came to mind.
1) I have allowed my life to become very cluttered.
2) I have developed the habit of talking too much and writing too little.
3) I have not been giving journalism its due respect as a form of writing.
4) I procrastinate on updating this because I hate the idea of not having anything to say.
Let's unpack that item by item.
First off, 'clutter' might seem an odd thing to say, given the positively ponderous list of goals this whole journal is based around helping me toward. But 'clutter' in this case means specifically those things which take up time and energy in my day but only distract from the things I really want. In my case, clutter comes in the form of menial busy-work and 'fun' distractions. The busy-work is obvious: cleaning, laundry, organizing things. That last one is probably the single biggest culprit, especially given the fairly Byzantine structure my data storage has taken on. With inevitable tasks like cleaning and laundry, the answer is simply to be diligent about getting those tasks done at a given day within a given time every week. Sunday is a lovely day for that purpose, and is also where--as my posted schedule dictates--I can get all my cooking done for the week up front, sparing me having to spend any serious time on it during the week.
Organization, on the other hand, will simply require moment-to-moment thoughtfulness. At some point soon, I will need to dedicate some time to improving the manner in which I organize my data, and I'll also need to start paying more attention to where things get saved or downloaded to. Managing these things as they come will spare me having to devote marathon sessions to sorting them, often pausing to figure out what in the world a given document or bookmarked website is about because I haven't so much as glanced at it in months.
This brings us back to the 'fun' distractions, which I put in quotation marks for a reason. These distractions are never actually fun for me. Some people have vacuous television that, for lack of concentration or motivation, they find themselves watching for a time, but when they walk away from it, they realize none of it stuck with them, or mattered to them at all: I have vacuous reading, for the most part. It is mildly entertaining and requires little-to-no effort on my part, but ultimately is never half as satisfying as actually getting something I care about done.
Second, talking too much and writing too little. I felt it was appropriate to combine these two, because in the course of my life, I think they have always been linked. I was at my most productive when I was at my least talkative. When I was a teenager, I rarely engaged a conversation I did not find mentally stimulating, and when I was in such a situation, I tended to keep quiet and let the other person speak while I thought. As I became more gregarious in my late adolescence, I forced myself to become adept at conversation, but found my time for solitude and reflection diminishing. Worst still, I had worked so hard to drag myself out of my shell and be social that when I had good opportunities to reflect and write and brood, I reflexively refused to. There is no doubt in my mind that my productivity and imagination as an artist has faltered for it, and my demeanor and patience have also suffered. I will not consider the shift a total loss, for I have acquired certain social graces and insights that are of great use in some circumstances, but I need to cut down on social trivialities. I'm more skilled as a writer than as a speaker, at any rate.
Thirdly, this journal has suffered because I have disrespected the art of journal-keeping. To maintain a journal that offers real insight beyond simple lists of daily activities requires just as much focus and drive as writing fiction or essay, and to make it enjoyable for others to read requires great verbal acuity. I've been humbled a great deal recently in the realm of writing by recent experimental efforts I've made to write in ways and areas I've not done before. I feel confident in my prose-craft, though I certainly wish to inject something new into it, but my writing outside the fictional sphere lacks the polish of my writing within it.
Fourth and finally, when, on a day to day basis, I have faltered and failed and idled, I sit and stare at this journal thinking, "Oh no, I'd have to start making things up to have anything worthwhile to say." I will not fret over this longer than to say that the solution here? Actually DO the things I have committed to, so that every day is a day worth writing about. Mind-blowing concept, right!?
Regular updates begin tomorrow, at a scheduled time.
Still learning,
~L
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