There’s a tendency – and I hesitate to claim myself the only victim – to start out gung ho on a project, only to have enthusiasm taper off until whatever it may be – regular journaling, a photo a day, a young adult novel – is relegated to a very occasional time-killer practiced as desperate filler once every miniscule surface in the apartment has been dusted.
I do this with many, many things. When I was a flaky kid, I took a mere, single season of children’s choir (in my defense, it was very religious, and the director was not nice), karate (I think I broke my baby toe on a bench and it never properly healed), and gymnastics (how was I supposed to know I’d one day become yoga-obsessed and could have really benefited from the ingrained flexibility).
Now that I’m a marginally less flaky adult (quote, end quote), I’m not as eager to drop activities (since I’m usually paying for them), with the exception of gym memberships, which are notoriously difficult to utilize to th
eir full potential. But my tendency hasn’t dispersed, it has simply relocated. Now, I lose … not interest, exactly, maybe it’s momentum – in the very examples I offered above: keeping a journal, taking regular photos, writing my book.
When I step back from the needless floor-scrubbing, and really think about it, it’s upsetting. I often wonder if I possess combustible passion, ever disconnecting and reordering, or if – as a friend kindly suggested – I just have so many passions that it’s impossible to keep up with all of them, all the time
Either way, this distraction has unfortunately made its way into my blog-keeping. I was reliable in the beginning: I posted weekly, sometimes even daily. Then life kind of stepped in and took over, and suddenly I was only posting articles written for something else that might arguably apply to the loose content boundaries of my website. Or when something really phenomenal happened.
And that’s exactly what My Transient Reality isn’t about. It’s supposed to revel in the ordinary beauty of everyday life, not hang stale for months while its moderator/author waits for something extraordinarily exciting to occur
So this moderator/author has a new goal, one that might be pushed aside when next the dust settles on the windowsills but, alternately, might just be fastened like a sticky note on the mirror, now that it’s been verbalized.
One post a week. A quandary, a query, a musing, whatever pops to mind. But with regularity, and with gusto.
Always with gusto.