Okay, here I am, ten months later.
I would like to make a conscious effort to be writing more down. Even if I just write one thing down every day. Maybe not even here, necessarily, just someplace. On a scrap of paper. The only things I've been writing down lately are grocery lists and reminders on my hand re: school, grading, and sending announcements to my classes. Oh, and I've been writing announcements. And comments on essays. These things should count, but they don't.
I feel like I'm failing. And in a way, I am. I say I'm a writer but I'm failing to document even the smallest parts of my life. I don't journal anymore, and I don't blog. I tweet and I write updates on Facebook and I post my little pithy pictures to Instagram, but that's not a substitute for thinking. I feel like I figure out what I think by writing it down, and so in that way I'm failing myself.
These things came to me because I keep a log of everything I read and watch during the year, and I thought to myself, THIS is what I spend my time doing? I watch so much more than I read, and I write even less. Even if I wrote down a paragraph about each thing I read or watched, I think I would double my word count for the year, which is sad.
Anyway, this is me complaining. And writing something down. I hope it's a start.
I'm watching a documentary on Netflix right now about killers and urban legends, called "Killer Legends." It's bound to be terrible, but my brain needs a break. And my body needs popcorn.
Ten months ain't that long
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