Not Enough Time

Writing every single week gives me the one routine constant I have had in my life for four years.

The premise of just writing every single week, irrespective of how I ever have been doing, or whatever I’m feeling, I can count on the fact that I will return back here to where I started to get to understand myself. The number of weeks where I’ve wanted to quit and just never write or be seen again have been too many to count. I’ve left myself the chance to push to write something hastily at the end of a long day, just to prove to myself I could stick with all of this. It’s what above everything else I’ve been known to be for a brief acquaintance I had a class with that one time winter quarter where I mentioned writing every week, to which they responded “Wow that’s so cool!”

But the older I’m getting and the more time I get to process that I am mortal, the harder it’s getting to do everything you want to do in life. And no, I don’t mean the “I want to do everything for my career” type of I want to do everything; I mean the “I have too much I care about for my people, but there are no hours in the day to do them all.” That level of spontaneity and freedom to want to live your day around very minimal commitments has all but evaporated. The amount of time that I second guess just randomly popping by to see someone for fear of how it derails other sincere plans is not fun in the slightest…