Seems I have periods where I feel lost and periods that I just lose, misplace, I don’t know where the time went or what I did with it. I’ve been feeling a bit lost the past few days. Things happen, things come and go, I have conversations or I don’t. I think it was probably not a good idea to stop writing in these things daily, though, to be fair, it wasn’t an idea exactly. An accident, falling out of habit, something more along those lines.
I never kept an online journal because I really needed to tell strangers (well, come on, most of you and most of I might not be all that predisposed to pass a friendly chat in our analog lives) my fairly dull day to day. Though that’s not entirely beside the point. It began to be a challenge to try and make my day to day sound interesting, and not one I always met with good grace or success. Mostly though it’s been to make writing daily a habit.
Though perhaps I let drop the dream of writing the great American novel a few decades back (and maybe there is no longer such a thing) it’s the only outlet for expression that I’m really left with. I have musical instruments around, but, you know, shit. I can’t paint or sculpt (though I would like to play with all that stuff) and something in my psyche, in my sense of self image – I’m creative.
Perhaps a daily journal is to creativity what wash dishes is to fine dining; it has to be done but it’s not the money shot. I like washing dishes. It gives you time to think and an objective sense of completion, the dishes were dirty and when you finish they are clean.
To bring this full circle, sometimes it feels like I’ve cleaned all the dishs and forgot where I put them. Lost. Not in a frightening way or a desperate way more like in a frustrating way.
I don’t know, this entry is clean enough to eat off of.
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