facing it

The last time I sat down with any seriousness to write a blog post was in October. Now it’s January. I thought about writing constantly while I worked or cleaned or drove and even felt bursts of motivation many times since then but still, somehow, nearly 85 days passed before I really made the push to let a stream of consciousness take me somewhere. There’s something gut wrenchingly unnerving about that. I could write it off as the end of year craziness, holiday rushing around, or another thing thrown off by 2020, but I think the reality is that those are all excuses I should be trying to write off using. 

I remember being a kid and romanticizing the idea of things being hazy. Every character I wrote up for every Harry Potter RPG (and there were dozens) I would describe the same way, “all hazy eyes and some-physically-attractive-trait-here.” (re: “all hazy eyes and messy hair” or “a mess of hazy eyes and gangly limbs”)  A decade later it’s unfathomable to me to find ‘hazy’ as anything remotely attractive, because I know the self sabotaging way it manifests in my life. Months disappearing just like this, in a state of semi self awareness. Cutting through that fog is made somewhat easier by putting words onto a blank document, though, and despite how clunky they seem to fit together or how tedious it is to drag them forth from my brain, anything that makes the haze pull back has to be worth pursuing. 

So thus a new cycle of concerted effort is born from this fixation I have on being more conscientious. The more books I read or podcasts and lectures I listen to, the more I have the sense that this desire is the one I have to latch myself onto more than anything else. And if this post is something between a promise to myself and a manifesto, I hope the next posts to follow will serve as edifying personal essays on philosophy and religion and my attempts to understand things as plainly and true to their character as I can manage.

cheers,

christy