Habitual
I am trying to get into the habit of going to sleep at 10pm.
This feels very early, but I want to get into the habit of waking up at 5:30am. That sounds disgustingly early. It's how early I would need to be up, though, to drink water, have breakfast, and go for a run.
I want to be a more productive person. Productive people are supposed to have healthy productive person habits. In part, this theory doesn't ring true, because there are people like Van Gogh. But, we can't all be prolific geniuses who cut our ears off, so- I suppose it's better to try to procure productive people habits rather than hope that I will leave in the remnants of my destruction a body of work that astounds.
As part of these healthier habits I want to set aside more time to write.
This, I tell you, because earlier today a boy that I had a crush on from elementary school through middle school suggested that blogging will not make me efamous. I got called out. By my third great love. My third grade love.
He was so sweet, I thought, when we were children. But I imagined all little boys to be lovely and sensitive as I was. I think I started vying for their affections a little young. I still remember when I cried because a boy would not sit next to me in the cafeteria in kindergarten. I never outgrew that habit. I also remember, vaguely, (maybe?) kissing a boy in first grade- and he cried. This is another scene that has trailed me into adulthood. Just kidding! Now it's sad sex and being ghosted, which I think is the adult equivalent of crying because a boy wouldn't sit next to you in the cafeteria at lunch. So that first joke still rings true.
Anyway, I got called out. By this guy that I spent a good portion of my life crushing on. In a way that was both weird and seemingly unnecessary. Weird because I would never consider being internet famous synonymous with efame. I hadn't considered efame was a thing. I mean, electronic mail- sure. Electronic commerce? Why not! But electronic famous? It just seems so bizarre. Is that a thing? Are the kids saying it that way these days? Am I so out of touch? Probably. But as strange as the phrasing was it stung.
I began to wonder if that was really what I was trying for? And if so, am I not spectacularly failing at it? I mean- I get that it can take a while to garner a following, but I don't even think the course of this writing is consistent enough in tone to be a vehicle to internet super stardom. It's egregiously niche. I could only become successful off of this, I think, if there were some how an untapped market for girls who frequently write about their body issues and their cats. From casually browsing Tumblr I know this market to be HEAVILY saturated.
Which brings me to the point of where it was sort of an unnecessary comment to begin with- if he had ever read my blog I think it would be pretty obvious this is not going to make me famous. I think it would be pretty obvious there's no way I could be rambling like this and think I would get anything more out of it than, hopefully some day, a bit of free editorial advice on my general writing style/grammatical structure. Or, more likely, people trolling the internet for people who have mentioned a propensity for suicidal thoughts that they can attempt to harass into actually committing suicide.
So, in case you were wondering why I do this every so often- it's because I need to feel like I am completing something. I spend a lot of my time starting projects that never get past the inception. I feel like completing a piece of writing on a some what regular basis may get me to the point one day where I can write a short story. Or a short episode. And hopefully, from there, I can one day finish a pilot or a small novel.
I love and appreciate the people who read this because I feel like you are witnessing my attempt at being more human. I feel like you are keeping me honest. I feel like I can ascend to Valhalla one day because you have seen the first of my experiments into doing something habitually other than lying.
And, as I have mentioned before, I am sure there is someone else out there who feels just as bad as I do at any given moment. Who feels totally worthless half way through a painting and puts it down to sleep the day away. I know there are other people who fucked up when they were younger in ways that burnt bridges and who are trying to rebuild. There are people who don't remember large portions of their early 20s who aren't sure if they can make it through college now. I selfishly want you to know you're not alone so that I can feel like I am not alone, and we can get through this together.
So thank you, very much, for reading.
This feels very early, but I want to get into the habit of waking up at 5:30am. That sounds disgustingly early. It's how early I would need to be up, though, to drink water, have breakfast, and go for a run.
I want to be a more productive person. Productive people are supposed to have healthy productive person habits. In part, this theory doesn't ring true, because there are people like Van Gogh. But, we can't all be prolific geniuses who cut our ears off, so- I suppose it's better to try to procure productive people habits rather than hope that I will leave in the remnants of my destruction a body of work that astounds.
As part of these healthier habits I want to set aside more time to write.
This, I tell you, because earlier today a boy that I had a crush on from elementary school through middle school suggested that blogging will not make me efamous. I got called out. By my third great love. My third grade love.
He was so sweet, I thought, when we were children. But I imagined all little boys to be lovely and sensitive as I was. I think I started vying for their affections a little young. I still remember when I cried because a boy would not sit next to me in the cafeteria in kindergarten. I never outgrew that habit. I also remember, vaguely, (maybe?) kissing a boy in first grade- and he cried. This is another scene that has trailed me into adulthood. Just kidding! Now it's sad sex and being ghosted, which I think is the adult equivalent of crying because a boy wouldn't sit next to you in the cafeteria at lunch. So that first joke still rings true.
Anyway, I got called out. By this guy that I spent a good portion of my life crushing on. In a way that was both weird and seemingly unnecessary. Weird because I would never consider being internet famous synonymous with efame. I hadn't considered efame was a thing. I mean, electronic mail- sure. Electronic commerce? Why not! But electronic famous? It just seems so bizarre. Is that a thing? Are the kids saying it that way these days? Am I so out of touch? Probably. But as strange as the phrasing was it stung.
I began to wonder if that was really what I was trying for? And if so, am I not spectacularly failing at it? I mean- I get that it can take a while to garner a following, but I don't even think the course of this writing is consistent enough in tone to be a vehicle to internet super stardom. It's egregiously niche. I could only become successful off of this, I think, if there were some how an untapped market for girls who frequently write about their body issues and their cats. From casually browsing Tumblr I know this market to be HEAVILY saturated.
Which brings me to the point of where it was sort of an unnecessary comment to begin with- if he had ever read my blog I think it would be pretty obvious this is not going to make me famous. I think it would be pretty obvious there's no way I could be rambling like this and think I would get anything more out of it than, hopefully some day, a bit of free editorial advice on my general writing style/grammatical structure. Or, more likely, people trolling the internet for people who have mentioned a propensity for suicidal thoughts that they can attempt to harass into actually committing suicide.
So, in case you were wondering why I do this every so often- it's because I need to feel like I am completing something. I spend a lot of my time starting projects that never get past the inception. I feel like completing a piece of writing on a some what regular basis may get me to the point one day where I can write a short story. Or a short episode. And hopefully, from there, I can one day finish a pilot or a small novel.
I love and appreciate the people who read this because I feel like you are witnessing my attempt at being more human. I feel like you are keeping me honest. I feel like I can ascend to Valhalla one day because you have seen the first of my experiments into doing something habitually other than lying.
And, as I have mentioned before, I am sure there is someone else out there who feels just as bad as I do at any given moment. Who feels totally worthless half way through a painting and puts it down to sleep the day away. I know there are other people who fucked up when they were younger in ways that burnt bridges and who are trying to rebuild. There are people who don't remember large portions of their early 20s who aren't sure if they can make it through college now. I selfishly want you to know you're not alone so that I can feel like I am not alone, and we can get through this together.
So thank you, very much, for reading.
I go to bed every night at 10 and wake up at six. It's the best!
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