In between time
It's that strange in between time. I've eaten, but it's too early to run. So I'll write. Writing is always good.
I've felt guilty the last couple days. I haven't been writing creatively. I started writing a short story last week, and wrote in it a couple nights. But then Friday happened. Then the weekend happened. Then Memorial Day happened. Then last night happened (I went to The Club Car with a couple people and drank free Pepsi all night). Once again I've slipped and gotten lazy. Discipline and determination are the two things you need to succeed. I have determination to write — have the desire and the dreams — but it's hard to stay disciplined.
Tonight I'll write. I'll pick up where I left off in my short story. This summer will be the summer of the short story and the short short story. I plan to swim a little in the fiction end of the pool again. But I'll still write nonfiction. Nonfiction is so easy to write. It's so beautiful and naturally full of metaphor. It's life on paper. That's what I love about life: it's saturated with metaphor.
I have a couple emails to write, too. A friend of mine wrote me recently and complained how people don't put time into what we write others since correspondences have become electronic and instantaneous. Her email was short, of course, but she criticized herself for being such a hypocrite.
Here's the new picture I have on my computer desktop. I changed it today:
It's another MacDesktops picture, taken somewhere off the Pacific Coast Highway near Big Sur. This is what the central coast of California looks like, and is similar to the area around Santa Cruz.
The wait is killing me. Everyday I think of September. I think of the day I'll have all my things packed and drive off, the day I'll go west. Believe it or not, I've actually inspired others to leave Iowa City. Yeah — no shit. Me? Inspire others? They point to my willingness to follow dreams and my courage. It's stirred the same emotions inside them, and now they want to follow my example. (Actually, to tell the truth, I've only inspired one person, who was also inspired by another friend. I'm only responsible for half of her decision, but it's enough to mention and be proud of.)
Time to go run. Then I'll write. Good night.
I've felt guilty the last couple days. I haven't been writing creatively. I started writing a short story last week, and wrote in it a couple nights. But then Friday happened. Then the weekend happened. Then Memorial Day happened. Then last night happened (I went to The Club Car with a couple people and drank free Pepsi all night). Once again I've slipped and gotten lazy. Discipline and determination are the two things you need to succeed. I have determination to write — have the desire and the dreams — but it's hard to stay disciplined.
Tonight I'll write. I'll pick up where I left off in my short story. This summer will be the summer of the short story and the short short story. I plan to swim a little in the fiction end of the pool again. But I'll still write nonfiction. Nonfiction is so easy to write. It's so beautiful and naturally full of metaphor. It's life on paper. That's what I love about life: it's saturated with metaphor.
I have a couple emails to write, too. A friend of mine wrote me recently and complained how people don't put time into what we write others since correspondences have become electronic and instantaneous. Her email was short, of course, but she criticized herself for being such a hypocrite.
Here's the new picture I have on my computer desktop. I changed it today:
It's another MacDesktops picture, taken somewhere off the Pacific Coast Highway near Big Sur. This is what the central coast of California looks like, and is similar to the area around Santa Cruz.
The wait is killing me. Everyday I think of September. I think of the day I'll have all my things packed and drive off, the day I'll go west. Believe it or not, I've actually inspired others to leave Iowa City. Yeah — no shit. Me? Inspire others? They point to my willingness to follow dreams and my courage. It's stirred the same emotions inside them, and now they want to follow my example. (Actually, to tell the truth, I've only inspired one person, who was also inspired by another friend. I'm only responsible for half of her decision, but it's enough to mention and be proud of.)
Time to go run. Then I'll write. Good night.
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