the reward for work is more work
I haven't blogged in a few days. I actually haven't done much writing at all in the last week other than the work I did for a client. I mean, I guess I clapped back at some guy on Threads, but I don't think that really counts.
Thing is, I didn't feel guilty for not writing or blogging. And not feeling guilty felt... weird. That guilt has been so loud for so long. To not feel it, see it, hear it, it was like there was a part of me missing. I felt a lack but processed it as a loss. Eventually, I realized that I could also process a lack as a gain. The ol' addition by subtraction or some shit.
I think to an extent my "return" to blogging has been a good and positive thing in my life specifically because it's been for me and not for anyone else. Yeah, sure, I post it publicly, but only because it's an option to do so, and, moreover, I just like, want to. The blogging, the random little things I'm working on bit by bit in drafts that are somehow not just blog posts... it's all felt so healthy. Like, I'm finally doing something for myself, writing something for myself and not for money or acclaim or whatever the fuck else I thought I wanted. Doing this writing, whatever it is and whatever it becomes, has been meaningful and useful. I've gotten some thoughts and ideas out, and, in so doing, refined some of the thoughts and ideas from weeks, months, and years past. Nothing serious, mind you, but Rome wasn't built on a Tuesday.
Writing a lot makes it easier to write a lot. I'm sure I knew this when I was younger but there's a difference between knowing something is something and experiencing the something and knowing the power of it. Like, you think you know what it's going to feel like when someone breaks your heart, but it's not quite like that is it. You think it's going to be a thunderbolt thrown out of the heavens and into your chest and instead it just feels like parts of you are rotting on the inside and you can like, smell that meat rot. The one that enters your nose and then backflips and becomes something truly terrible, yes, but also terrifying. You know that you too will smell like that, someday. So will everyone you love. Does that comfort you or make you want to scream I love you into the phone? Or both? If it's neither, I don't know what to say, bud. Maybe stick a fork in an outlet and see what happens.
Anyway, here's "Wonderwall."
GIVE
GLAUGH
GLOVE
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