I love to read and write, but I always find reasons why I shouldn’t. When I look at a blank page, I am flooded with a sense of primordial dread that is usually best left for blindfolded people tied up in a car trunk. Why am I not able to express myself? Habituation is too easy of an answer.
No, the issue is a lack of dedication and confidence. I never thought I’d ever admit that so casually, but it’s true.
Should I just keep a diary until I get myself into the habit of writing? Maybe it’s the kind of writing that gets to me. I’m a pragmatist and a logician to the farthest point that I may call myself so. Why am I expecting myself to write the next sci-fi wonder? Maybe I am the guy who comes up with slogans and enjoys technical writing. Let’s put this to practice.
It’s not the result I should be focusing on, I know, but my mind drives a tough bargain. If no result is in sight, why bother? How depressing. Nothing happens overnight, and if I wanted to write, then I need to start making a habit of it. There’s that “H” word again.
So, today’s Sunday. It’s pretty lax. I’m feeling well, and I am about to pour myself an opening cup of coffee. Speaking of coffee, did you see the new Twin Peaks teaser? I loved that show. In parts. The first season. Most of the first season. But the ads and teasers for the upcoming season are deplorable! I get it, people are excited, but can we get more than a trickle of images and cast lists? Or maybe that is the intention of the creators. In an age of super information (I feel old), mystery is a strong selling point.
Before I end this unedited jumble of words and nonsense, I would like to add that I will be watching La La Land today. I generally hate musicals, so let’s hope this is more Moulin Rouge and less Into the Woods *shudder*.