On whatever comes next.

It has been exactly three months but this time I won’t apologize. The past three months have been tiring and emotionally intense, but just a few days ago the hardest 21 months of my life came to a satisfying, albeit slightly tear-ridden, end. This is the first weekend since October 2010 that has not been driven by guilt and a heavy burden weighing down my every carefree moment. Although the result of this personally Daedalean task is still unknown, my conscience rests assured that my mind and ‘pen’ did everything possible, and that is something I can live with in case something goes wrong (or so I keep telling myself). I really don’t mean to sound like a drama queen here (even though a friend recently told me I kind of am), but this damn thing took everything I had (emotionally). Another friend recently said how amazing, and at the same time ‘annoying’, she finds the fact that I seem to deal so well with whatever comes at me. I think my boyfriend is the one who can truthfully and most accurately answer and interpret the ‘how well’ part. I’m not ashamed, for example, to confess that as soon as I hit the sent button I cried my eyes out for about an hour… my point being that I might have made it look easy, but it really, really wasn’t

During this time I dreamt of what life would be like when all this finally came to an end. I saw myself writing, reading, writing, going out more, writing, and well, you know, writing. Heh. And although this is the first piece of writing I’ve done since then, I feel better just knowing that I now have the time to do it (guilt-free time, that is). So the jig is now very much up! Official excuses are over and all I’m left with now is the all too familiar war between laziness and determination. Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky said the following on my predicament: 

We must always work, and a self-respecting artist must not fold his hands on the 
pretext that he is not  in the mood. If we wait for the mood, without 
endeavouring to meet it half-way, we easily become indolent and
 apathetic. We must be patient, and believe that inspiration
 will come to those who can master their disinclination. 

Hear, hear Pyotr! I’m with you all the way… now tell me how to do it. The thing about this creative process, (and I sure seem to know a lot for someone who has done so little) and something most people don’t realize, is that it is actual work, not some five-minute montage of flawless, God-sent words, flowing from your fingers and onto the page while an inspiring theme song is playing in the background. Do I wish I had some of those pills Eddie Morra devours in Limitless? Dear God yes. And you sir are lying to yourself if you say no. But alas, the pills are a fantasy, as are my daydreams about this being easy. 

Not being an avid fan of resolutions (New Year’s or otherwise) I am truly curious to see what I will have accomplished by the end of this year, considering I have five full months at my disposal. At the risk of disappointing and embarrassing myself come December 31st, I will take the sissy way out and not reveal my personal-achievement wish list. I do, however, solemnly swear to apply the same discipline I did these past 21 months.

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