I read an article that you should go read before continuing this entry, if you haven’t read it already. It’s about being busy, and how we fill our lives with that to pretend that our lives have meaning.
Yeah, so I definitely fit that. But the part that needs changing is that I’m mostly busy with things that don’t matter, and they get in the way of things that do.
That doesn’t mean I think my job is unimportant. I don’t. I help save soldiers’ lives, period. But it’s so remote, so distant and distributed, and not fully in tune with my nature. Don’t get me wrong, I like to program, but I am a writer. One is an activity, one is my nature.
And yet, I haven’t been writing much. I’ve started a story this year that kind of just…stopped, and I have another hanging by a thread. I love the ideas, but just can’t bring myself to the page.
I think that article is something for me to think on for why. I haven’t had a whole lot of quiet time recently, either; my life has been busy and full, with moving and work and friends and such. There was no time to stop and let the men in the basement do their work (as Stephen King has said). That’s what I want.
So I have to figure out a way to get that. Because I hate not writing. I feel unfulfilled, but this stubborn, nose-to-the-grindstone, do-it-or-else approach isn’t working. Time to find something that will.
As things settle in at the new place, hopefully it can become part of a routine, of quiet time spent with my own creative thoughts. That I would like very much.