I haven’t been writing for almost a week. As soon as Internet connection failed, so did my routine. I even forgot it was Thursday already, and when the radio presenter said: It’s almost Friday! – in a chirpy voice, I thought he was streching it a bit, convienced it was Wednesday. But, alas! Weekday or weekend, there’s still no difference to me. I had another interview, but I’m not going to find out till next week. I am wasting my days, so eager to get something done, but all my energy goes into endless procrastination, ruminations and general lack of enthusiasm, damned apathy, damned frustration of not getting anywhere, not being a part of anything…I’m trying bit by bit. But it’s not enough. Time to make another plan, another list, another routine. Where can I get energy from? I can’t even bring myself to cook. Money is melting quickly on my pointless coffees in town, an illusion of doing something, ‘getting out there’ , trying to run away, but where to? There’s nowhere else to run. I am still tempted just to wander around the city, but even more, I am drawn towards the open space, the sea…
…should I now write till my fingertips bleed to make up for all the time that I have missed? It is easy to fall under the illusion that routine kills creativity. I suspect it might be the other way round. Without discipline I am only a madwoman, not an artist. A dole scrounger, a prozac muncher, a good-for-nothing pretender…all the insults you can think off. I am just a drifter: it would be fine, it all would be fine if I could feel good in my skin. But I don’t.
500 words seemed so easy once I got into the routine. But now I am struggling. I missed one day, and it quickly turned into a week. It scares me. It is too easy to slip, to keep daydreaming, find excuses, blame the others, blame the situation, the environment (lovely chavvy naighbours across the road, hanging out in front of the house, swearing all day and obstructing my lofty ambitions, which I have already forgotten, focused on the fact that the whole world is against me, or maybe it’s me who’s against the whole world? Is it one and the same thing?
I am lost in the Wonderland again. ..:
….Alice hastily replied; ‘ at least – at least I mean what I say – that’s the same thing, you know.’
‘Not the same thing a bit!’ said the Hatter. ‘You might just as well say that “I see what I eat” is the same thing as “I eat what I see”!’
‘You might just as well say’, added the March Hare, ‘that “I like what I get” is the same thing as “I get what I like”!’
‘You might just as well say’, added the Dormouse, who seemed to be talking in his sleep, ‘that “I breathe when I sleep” is the same thing as “I sleep when I breathe”!’
‘It is the same thing with you,’ said the Hatter, and here the conversation dropped.