Old heroes.

I thought this was how all my evenings in my own apartment would be: Eating a good, healthy meal; watching a movie, an episode of a series, reading a book or listening to an album; and then sit down by my table to write. It’s almost frightening to think how rare these nights are. So often I just doze off in front of the TV when I get going with a movie or a series. So often I live through my phone, having meaningful conversations but ultimately staying up way too late, leaving me tired and out of energy for the next day. It’s a vicious circle. Tonight I broke free from it. If only for one night. And I feel like I wrote a decent poem (Boy doing dishes.), which will hopefully be the start of a new bout of inspiration. Actually, I don’t think it’s inspiration as much as dedication I lack. There are quite a few projects that I want to start or get back to work on, but I just don’t really set aside the time to do it. I always find some different, less important thing to do.

I’ve spent too many posts on this blog writing about how I always set myself up to fail. I won’t trouble you with that now, because I already know that it’s one of the most predominant factors when it comes to my lack of dedication – and I know that I just have to work through it. Once in a while I simply need to remind myself that this is why I don’t do much work. It’s not because there is some other thing that’s more important, something that I want more, or because I can’t do what I want to do. It’s simply because I’m afraid of disappointing myself. But the most disappointing thing is letting good ideas go because I don’t pull myself together while they’re present.

My nose is running. I find it oddly artistic. As if that alone puts me in a creative mood. I’ve been listening to some of the artists that used to help me get into this state. My Bloody Valentine. Sufjan Stevens. I don’t question the fact that I haven’t spent enough time listening to music lately. Whatever happened to put music in the background of my daily activities, I don’t know. But I need to put it at the forefront again. I need to pay more attention, and I always pay more attention when I have a tune in my head. There was a girl who seemed to have had her eyes planted on me from across King’s Garden today, walking towards me. I got hopelessly befuddled when I first noticed, but I managed to meet her stare the last 20-odd paces until we crossed each other. She was graceful in her walk, straight as an arrow, and had a somewhat cold stare with only the faintest hint of a smile. I dared not look back at her until a solid 10 seconds had passed. She looked back at me at the exact same moment. I should have stopped, turned back and walked up to her, but I didn’t. I never do.

And so another uneventful day with an inkling of the eventful stayed uneventful. But I noticed her more than I have noticed people this year. I want to be able to see people, really see them, and describe them. I need to train that skill. I need to be better at describing in general. I’m terrible at describing things. Almost as terrible as I am at telling stories. Quite noticeable flaws for someone who dreams of being a writer. But I really enjoy sitting here tonight. My mood raises whenever I remind myself that to become a writer I have to write. No matter what I write it is better than not writing. I will think about this feeling right until I fall asleep, and hopefully I will seek it again tomorrow. Boy probably has to do dishes then as well.

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