It’s been a while since I’ve had to do this. The last time was on bad days of the Marathon. It’s now 10:23pm, and I’m typing this entry in bed. I’ve written a few paragraphs before now, but mostly, I’ve slacked off today. If you remember, today was supposed to be a continuation of yesterday’s The Last Great Idea story (how many times have I used words like that in my musings?). I’m sad to say that I’ve failed in the writing. I’ve not given up on it, but I’m just about at the point of admitting defeat for tonight and putting down thoughts that don’t in anyway relate to story. Be warned, the following paragraphs are nothing but excuses, consternations, and utter backtalk. If I were you—and I’m happy I’m not you because then I wouldn’t be me—I’d stop reading right now and accept that David has nothing of value to say today. I would—again, if I was still you—check back in tomorrow to see if perhaps he’s found whatever it was he lost, but I’d chalk up today as a It’s Not Worth Wasting My Time With David’s Pitiful Words day. But that’s just me. You do what you think is right because you always do. Don’t think I don’t notice that about you. And, yes, if you ask me, I wouldn’t mind if you took my words more seriously. I do occasionally have intelligent things to say. Really, I do. (My arguing with myself is becoming very, very sad.)
There are many reasons for today’s failure: the easiest is that today was a caffeine-free day. On CF days, I have to be particularly careful about how I use my time. On ordinary days (i.e., non-CF days), I have only a few hours of Inspiration Time. IT—which is probably not the best name for it—is time during the day where my spirits are high and I’m able to crank out OT and good prose. (Obviously, this, right now, is not such a time.) For me, IT occurs usually in the evenings from anywhere around five to whatever time I fall asleep. I’m not saying that every evening or every hour of an evening is IT; it’s just more likely to occur during that time. I’ll admit that part of the reason is because I’m not working. I’m sure if I managed to make millions and quit my day job (an aspiration which I enjoy dreaming and working towards, but of which I’m not convinced would make me happy if I achieve), I’d find more IT hidden in the earlier parts of the day. The only time I’m sure will never qualify for IT is the three to four hours after lunch. I don’t know what lunch does to me, but that’s the lowest point of my day. As soon as four or five in the evening rolls around, I find new wind. Before that, however, when my lunch digests in my tummy, I want to do nothing and talk to nobody. The Argentineans had it right with their siestas. I can’t tell you how productive I would be if I could nap during the day.
The lack of coffee was not the only reason for the failure. World of Warcraft, my newest addiction, is also a culprit. WOW is similar to my other VG addictions, only shinier and newer. Most of the times, Doolies is home and we play together. We try to limit our time to one to two hours five or six days a week, Vacations and Doolies’s evening shifts limits our game play even more. I’d like to say that the game has taken no toll on my writing, but I must admit there are days where I come home and all I can think about is playing WOW. Except for today, my addiction has not hurt my writing significantly. Doolies is usually there to lay down the rules: no playing before 8pm, which gives me plenty of time to eat dinner (something I barely did tonight) and write my musing. Tonight, with Doolies safely working, I was left to my own devices (a strange phrase, I’ll agree). Since I’ve switched characters to a vertically challenged warlock, I’ve been trying to catch up to a certain Amazon hunter’s level. By playing when I first got home instead of eating or writing, I’m a few levels closer to my goal, but many words away from my real goal.
Let’s see, what other addictions have I left out today. I did watch part of “Citizen Kane” on DVD, which is so far terribly overrated. Because of an uncomfortable scene involving Kane and his first wife visiting Kane’s mistress, I turned the movie off after fifteen minutes. That, therefore, shouldn’t count. I spent part of my evening helping Doolies’s sister with one of her college paper. She goes to Har-vard. I miss college papers and classes. When you’re in school, you get feedback on everything you do: little gold stars collect in rows with your name on. In real life, you rarely get that immediate feedback. Anyway, the college-paper thing shouldn’t count either.
That’s all I have for today. I’ve met both shame and regret and I didn’t like the looks of either of them. I’m at a respectable 911 words, which I’ll leave it at and try again tomorrow. This writing every day is good for at least one thing: learning humility.