When I got the idea to blog for thirty straight days, I thought at first it would be the easiest thing I had ever done. Considering that previous sentence was the final shining champion of ten failed launching attempts, I would like to take back that previous statement. My present difficulty brings to mind other instances where something I enjoyed was not always something particularly easy.
When I was in high school I ran Cross Country track. My sense of direction is rivaled in its poverty only by my even poorer sense of depth perception, thus all sports with flying balls were inevitably out of the question. When all was said and done, I was moderately good. I didn’t get lost, at least not that often, and I did not die. I always feel more successful when I measure activities against the possibility of death, as though I have beaten something when in reality I have simply won a gold medal in avoidance. But despite how abundantly fun it sounds to be moderately good at something, I didn’t always want to go to practice, or even to our competitions. I was, however, a large fan of carbo-loading the night before. The point is: I didn’t always enjoy doing something I enjoyed.
This is an attempt of the daily discipline of writing, and seldom do people stand in line for disciplinary action, especially from our own selves. When I think about writing in college, I often rewrite in memory the frustrating nights where I would stare at a blank page without even the slightest hint of inspiration, the night where I would start a sentence ten times…which actually describes tonight. But I believed then what I believe now, that there are some things that deserve effort, even require it, in order to yield fulfillment. And since I was done making gym resolutions, 30 days of writing feels like the right thing to do.
For those of you who may have resolved to read this blog for 30 days in January, may I just remind you how much easier that is as opposed to creating it? Thanks…just needed to get that off my chest.