Days of… Summer?

Technically it’s still summer for a few more weeks, but it’s already starting to feel like fall. Leaves are starting to change and pumpkin lattes will be popping up in cafes across the city.

If you follow this blog you will be familiar with my Friday posts–and you may have noticed that I didn’t do it this week. It’s not the first one I’ve missed since starting the posts, and I’m sure it won’t be the last. It’s the timing that’s the thing, you see. If I don’t do it on Friday I still might first thing Saturday morning, when I’m gearing up for all the sitting around I plan to do that day. Once Saturday is happening, though, I don’t want to go back to Friday. So, there we are.

Student arrival and moving day in Boston has happened (/is still happening). I don’t know whether I’ll be able to adjust to all the extra people around during these months. My favorite cafe will probably be crowded every time I try to go there before work, now, and while I think that’s great for them, it doesn’t work out so well for me. I don’t know whether I can be happy about it. However, they, like everyone else, will have their pumpkin lattes and in a few more months, the amazing red chili tea lattes. I’ll be there no matter how crowded it is (within reason).

I feel like I should have more to say, given how infrequently I post, but my brain is just mush, generally speaking. I’m trying to work out my time so that I can find more time to write, but I’ve been taking work home fairly often lately. I do have to spend some time away from the computer, after all…

I hope that before I feel too old to make any changes in my life, I’ll figure out how to get the things I want in life. So far, I’ve had twenty-six years to try and haven’t managed it, so I don’t really feel that optimistic about it.

To end on a positive note, I do love fall. The changing of seasons is really my favorite part of it all, but if I had to pick a favorite season, fall would be it. After sweating through the previous months, I finally get to cool off, break out my sweaters, tall socks, scarves, and boots, without looking like an awkward summer-hater or sweating my ass off. And I won’t lie, I love the pumpkin.

Life: Chapter 463

Tomorrow, I move! I am thrilled. In a calm way…

This is a goodbye I can hardly wait to say. The new place is in Jamaica Plain. It will be a much quieter apartment and neighborhood. Much more conducive to productive writing time! Of course, I can’t place all the blame on my living situation for the amount of time I don’t spend writing, but I think it definitely plays a part.

I just need something to inspire me. I don’t mean that I need ideas. I’ve got plenty of those. I know, art is its own reward, right? That’s what they say. But sometimes it really isn’t enough. I need something to make me feel like it’s worth it. Writing is a lot of work, and takes a lot of time, and so far it hasn’t gotten me very far in life to put in that writing effort. For example, I spent weeks, if not longer, revising my Mythology project, which you can probably read about in some previous post or other, only to have misplaced the flash drive which, apparently, is the only place the revised versions were saved. There is still a chance it will turn up. There’s always a chance. But, the point is, how is this situation supposed to inspire me to write.


Maybe I should read over Gregory Maguire’s comments on the project again. That might make me feel better.

I often dwell on the unfortunate. I should just think about how wonderful my new apartment could be. And then do some creative work. Because there is one undeniable truth: I will never get published if I don’t actually do the writing.

How Else Could It Be

July is now almost over. I know, I don’t have to tell you that. You already know.

Once again, it seems that time is moving on while I stand still. And yet, I’ve been running around the city like crazy, seeing apartments and going to work and, thankfully, spending some time with friends.

And as usual, what I haven’t been doing is writing. It’s been at least two weeks since I got much writing of any sort done. Mostly, it’s my fault, as I allow myself to be distracted by other things in life, instead of setting time aside to get writing done. Mostly, people understand and say things like “I would probably do the same thing if I was trying to find a place to live.” Of course, that doesn’t help me be more productive, or make me feel better about neglecting my life’s purpose.

Do you ever question the one thing you usually are sure you were meant to do, and then wonder why you exist at all if it is not, in fact, your purpose?

Sometimes I spend an entire day feeling as if everyone is judging me, and always unfairly…