I've been putting off writing this long(ish) story about local street art (graffiti/sticker/stencil/wheatpasting) for the past three days. I have done all of the necessary reporting, transcribing all research. All that is left to do is to just write the fucking thing.
Writing the fucking thing -- any fucking thing -- is increasingly difficult for me to do. It seems like such a ... fucking chore.
And of course this is frightening. This is after all how I make my living.
I find myself wondering if its because of the onset of my early 30s. Maybe I'm losing my hungry, youthful edge and enthusiasm. Maybe rather than bust my ass trying to write an engaging, entertaining story that is at once light-as-air and thick as a brick, I'd rather just perform some mindless, menial job everyday and then come home and read or watch the TV.
Maybe.
But then I remember: I've never been able to rally myself to action until the last minute, even back when -- hell, especially back when -- I was a 21-year-old kid.
I needta find some flow. But that requires at least a solid 25 minutes of forced sustained concentration, and that is something that I can't seem to be bothered with lately.
Sudden depressing insight: I'm battling the exact same discipline problems now as I did 10 years ago. Back then, it was sort of charming -- or at least I imagined it to be. Now it's just ridiculous.
Perhaps writing a SG blog isn't the best pasttime for me right now.
Writing the fucking thing -- any fucking thing -- is increasingly difficult for me to do. It seems like such a ... fucking chore.
And of course this is frightening. This is after all how I make my living.
I find myself wondering if its because of the onset of my early 30s. Maybe I'm losing my hungry, youthful edge and enthusiasm. Maybe rather than bust my ass trying to write an engaging, entertaining story that is at once light-as-air and thick as a brick, I'd rather just perform some mindless, menial job everyday and then come home and read or watch the TV.
Maybe.
But then I remember: I've never been able to rally myself to action until the last minute, even back when -- hell, especially back when -- I was a 21-year-old kid.
I needta find some flow. But that requires at least a solid 25 minutes of forced sustained concentration, and that is something that I can't seem to be bothered with lately.
Sudden depressing insight: I'm battling the exact same discipline problems now as I did 10 years ago. Back then, it was sort of charming -- or at least I imagined it to be. Now it's just ridiculous.
Perhaps writing a SG blog isn't the best pasttime for me right now.