The problem is, I am easily distracted. It’s like this:
Open iTunes (because I can’t work without music).
Hear a popular song from the 80s.
Wonder whatever happened to that particular artist. Let’s just say it’s Colonel Abrams.
Google, “Whatever happened to Colonel Abrams.”
Find out Colonel Abrams died in 2016.
Open YouTube – listen to Colonel Abrams songs.
Post Colonel Abrams song on Facebook; write humorous comment about how that “shit was the DAMMIT jam.”
Fall down YouTube rabbit hole of similar ‘dammit jams” that may be familiar.
An hour later…
So that’s what is happening right now. And for some reason, my inability to focus has been pretty acute. And UN-cute.
I am having a really hard time getting some writing shit done nowadays. I’m not sure what is happening – whether it’s the way the planets are aligned, hormonal changes, or my heightened sense of impending global doom and destruction.
Maybe that’s it.
Whatever it is, it is making it almost impossible for me to relax long enough to settle into a creative headspace. And see… I don’t even say shit like, “headspace.”
I don’t even know myself anymore.
I’m a mess.
And here’s what’s really awful about all of this – I have so many ideas floating around in my head. Short stories, essays, blog posts… they’re waking me up out of my sleep at night. But five minutes in front of the blank screen and I’m looking up recipes for egusi soup, or looking at videos of odd animal friendships.
There is light, though.
I realize that writing, to me, is like working out – minus the soul-burning hatred of all things related to exercise and the dreams of arson at LA Fitness. But I’m saying, I will have to just start again.
Like with exercise, I will need structure – a set time each day when all I do is write – no social media, no phone calls, no yelling at neighborhood children from my balcony…
An hour or two after breakfast, before training my troops of killer butterflies.
What is that saying, anything you do every day for 30 days becomes a habit? Right.
I gotta get to work.