Travel stopped being an adventure when the trip became too fast. It became a drive. A flight. A day or less, anywhere in the world. Luxuries became common, and we were able to pack our comforts in ways that we weren’t able to before — and certainly wouldn’t, if it were an adventure.
What do we lose when the destination is all there is?
Sometimes, sitting to write takes a lot of willpower. There is no shortage of things that can eat at your attention.
Is it the day to day? Or is it something broader? What should our attention be on?
“Take your life in your own hands and what happens? A terrible thing: no one to blame.” – Erica Jong
The internet, and everything on it, is amazing.
I mean, yes – some of it is complete rage bait. Trolling, and terrible people, saying terrible things, from the relative anonymity of their aliases.
But, and I am an optimist, the internet has some much to offer – each and every one of us.
My thought is, though – what if, rather than being always connected, you limited the flow?
If your baseline is a fire hydrant flow, it’s going to hurt. If your base line is off, just turning the tap a bit can give you a glass of water.
It’s confusing want and need, and we’re being conditioned to think everything out there is needed. When it’s not.
We allow ourselves the luxury of distraction. What we should be making room for is inspiration.
Why do great ideas come to us in the shower? It’s the only time anymore that nothing else is demanding our attention.
From sun up, when you first grab your phone. To night… If the only time you can be alone with your thoughts – no phone, no internet, no tv, no distractions – is in the shower, what else would you expect?
Giving yourself time to just sit and think. That’s how to create something meaningful.
How much of our daily energy gets consumed by bad habits? As I have wondered over and over, where does the time go?
What are we spending it on, and is it worth it?
We’re not out there, hunting the wildebeest. At least I don’t think you are. Tigers aren’t chasing us.
And yet, we’re more anxious than we’ve ever been.
Why is that?
I am the guiltiest of guilty when it comes to this. I have, and have been consistently for most of my life, overencumbered by things that I have accepted upon myself to do.
Quite often without the commensurate income that I should expect with those heapings of responsibilities.
Even now, as I wade through employment, a stack of creative projects (my own), the consultations on others’ or co-owned creative projects, the daily, systematic routines I attempt to adhere to (mostly in vain), and the dozen or so long-ranging goals I’ve set for myself, I think:
WTF.
An entertaining movie. I enjoyed it, but I think I’m a bit soft on it. It felt like a movie that was trying very hard to find itself, but just didn’t quite make it.
Peter Parker is Spider-Man (spoiler), and everyone knew it. But at the end of No Way Home, the mystical magical arts of Dr. Strange erased everyone’s memory of Peter Parker.
So, Spider-Man has been living like this for presumably about four years. In early scenes, you see him take down Scorpion (who returns) and Tombstone (who does not). Figuring out the villain aspect, I don’t know, felt less fleshed out. There was a “villain” they wanted to introduce, and it all felt like setup. Then, in real time, we see Frank Castle as Punisher, played by the delightful Jon Bernthal.
It starts off as a detective story, with Holland’s Parker mourning his love, MJ, who no longer remembers him. Then shifts to an extortion plot, where this newly revealed villain gets Parker to help by threatening MJ. Then a siege movie, with a cameo by the Hulk — which felt unnecessary. And finally, a revenge story on the road to redemption.
Look, fine — a movie can be a lot of things. But I don’t think this one navigates the tonal shifts all that effectively.
Do we want Peter to get back with MJ? Maybe. Someone suggested that removing MJ entirely makes it more compelling, and I might agree. But I really like Ned, and maybe it’s good to keep him in there.
Then there was the whole Jean Grey problem, which — huge spoiler — but I feel like I haven’t heard much about that in the interim since the film’s release, and subsequent billion dollar box office. But I digress. Look, the first two-thirds of the movie, JG is a bad guy? Killing, no problem. Attacking and mind-shifting across New York? Whatever. Then, once you find out why she’s bad, she’s suddenly not so bad? No, it didn’t work.
Not for me.
Florence Pugh was a highlight, and I would watch her in anything she does. I’m a fan of the trio as well — Holland, Zendaya, and Jacob Batalon (who plays Ned). I think there were some great moments in this. Some chances taken, and a lot of good filmmaking. But I think it lacks the fun of the previous three Spider-Man movies, which, to me, is Holland’s strongest appeal as the character.
Is something being fun enough reason to do it? Is it a hobby? Is it something you can enjoy filling your time with?
Does it matter if it has no commercial practicality? Especially if, like many, you spend most of the day chasing financial stability.
It’s good to have something you can enjoy and spend free time on.
Without paying attention, I’ve made it to two months of daily posting. It’s a small milestone, but meaningful.
There’s a purpose for daily posting. Several, in all likelihood. For me, at least.
The first is, and probably the most important: getting into the routine is the biggest part of the battle.
Second, and nearly as important — if I post daily, even if one here and there really sucks eggs, there are so many more coming out consistently that they get lost to history.
Can you go back and look? Certainly. Will you?
Unclear.
Third, and probably the practical reason — this trains me to observe. If I am actively observing, I have things to write about.
If I walk through the day passive, then… I get nothing on the page.
Is this story good enough to read? Is this manual helpful enough? Will this blog post not waste somebody’s time?
I think these are the questions that stall us.
But they are often the ones we should give much less time to.
And focus on the doing.
There are many ways to write something — not just in a mechanical sense, but in a methodological one.
When you write from a viewpoint, you alter your perception to accommodate it.
When we write fiction, we think in terms of structure. It’s storytelling.
That’s not to say nonfiction isn’t — though sometimes it isn’t.
What we write impacts, to a degree, how we write it.
But that isn’t the holdup with writing, I think.
No one really worries, again, I believe, about how they should write something. The question they ask themselves is: is this worth writing?
