I've written about twenty-five blogs so far. Yesterday's left me unsatisfied; even though it was original and true to my feelings, it still contained parts I didn't like.
I aim to leave my writing with something meaningful to take away. It's increasingly challenging to achieve this consistently. I thought without the panic of writing everything in 20 minutes, I'd fare better. That’s what I’m attempting now.
My friend and I completed the poster work we were assigned. It’s mostly approved, which makes me a little happy. We went to a café with another friend, ate some chicken and fries, and tried the minty watermelon.
It tasted like the original watermelon drink with some mint, as expected. That served as lunch. The last two hours were free, which led to our spontaneous decision to eat.
Working on the poster last night led to a surprise—or more of an awakening. I found myself with the charger cord wrapped around my neck. I had rolled around and almost managed to unintentionally harm myself. Not an everyday occurrence.
I took it off and woke up feeling late. I felt the 9:30 AM in my heart, missing about two hours. Not ideal. I got ready and had "breakfast": a chicken roll and a Cavin’s strawberry milkshake.
I’d never drunk Cavin’s before meeting a friend who used to drink it. I don’t drink it obsessively, but certain things stick with you from friends. It’s one of those. There’s a saying that you are a mosaic of everyone you meet. I think it’s true; their influence lives on in you.
There’s a reason for most things—the way I drink water, the way I write. In every habit, there’s a person.
Whether I want them in those habits is another question. But they’re there. One could change these habits if they want, but the experience stays. The hesitation of meeting similar people, the reasons behind decisions.
There are millions of those. The joy is that we learn. I don’t think we should love overbearingly. If love can be overbearing is another question, which requires defining love. My professor asked our class this recently.
I find being embarrassed about love endearing because it pours into a person. The lack of hesitation in giving your all perhaps deserves a little blush.
“Oh, you love xyz that much?”
Yes, I do. And?
It’s specific and doesn’t bother every aspect of my life. Given the freedom to talk about what I want, I indulge in writing of these specific things. Maybe I should start writing something more meaningful.
It’s 5:41 PM. I’m nearly done with this post, and writing earlier is a success since I can sleep early tonight. My unhealthy habit of not moving until I post a blog interferes with everything else.
Consistency forces me to think about every other thing and find spaces in my day. I have to be intentional. I have to think about whether I even want to do it.
Do I want to do this? Some days, not really. But consistency calls, and I can’t ignore the ringtone. It induces a weight that I think will build.
I needed the perfect day to start, so I waited until July 1st to post my first blog. The perfect day never came until I started writing. Insults some days, compliments others.
But now that I've started, how can I stop?
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