Post-Nanowrimo 2015: 804

So it’s been … okay, not even a full week since I last added to my word-count; that’s not too bad. That’s fine. I can live with that.

I’ve been in another slump lately – haven’t been able to motivate myself to write either my shitty YA werewolf thing or my MA, and haven’t felt like doing much else either besides starting to play my way through the backlog of games I have on my laptop and have never actually tried. It’s been a while since I played anything that wasn’t WOW, and holy shit it’s good to have a break from that. I think this might be the end of my second full year of playing WOW, where I finally let my subscription run out. I just can’t be fucked anymore; there’s nothing to do in that game, and plenty of things to do in every other aspect of human existence that I could be doing instead.

Which has been part of the issue with this rut. As with any rut, I guess. But maybe it’s not even a rut. It’s more just frustration that the things I want to do aren’t timely. Like, great, I want to play a bunch of computer games and read a lot. I have shit to do. I can’t just do these things.

Can I?

Spoilers: not only can I, but that’s exactly what I should do, because there is never enough time. And as I keep trying to convince myself and even other people: if you’re going to not do X thing you’re obliged to do, you may as well enjoy the time you aren’t spending doing that thing, rather than just feeling guilty about not doing it and finding an unhappy middle-ground in endlessly refreshing YouTube to stave off your guilt by refusing to do the things you actually want to do, while also avoiding doing the work you don’t want to do. Because that’s just the dumbest fucking shit. Don’t do that. Go hard or go to sleep. Sleep is always a valid option.

Sleep is what I shall be engaging in very soon, but I had to make myself write something, despite not being inspired or motivated to do so, because I know that it’s something that I have to force myself into every now and then just to keep up momentum, or I will stagnate forever, and I don’t want to do that. In the meantime, I’m going to do all the things that I want to do that I could have waited for a more opportune time to want to do, because that’s now how people work and I fucking know it, so I have no excuse for not acting like I know it. Especially the part where I’ll actually enjoy myself instead of feeling unproductive and vapid by procrastinating in an attempt to both keep myself from receiving my guilty pleasure and staving off the inevitable obligatory work I have to perform. Fuck guilt. I’m an adult. I do what I want, because I want to.

So long as it doesn’t hurt anybody else; and I urge you all to do the same.

And also this novel is almost written and, yes, I do still want the sense of satisfaction that comes with hurtling towards the finish-line, and that requires, like, energy and focus and stamina, three things I’m a bit short on at 1:36 a.m.

Satisfaction. That’s what I’m after. And I’m not going to let obligations or deadlines get in my way. Because not only is there no time like the present, there is also no time but the present, so the more of it I use, the less of it I … won’t use.

1:37 a.m. Time for sleep.



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