I contemplated starting over. It has been 453 days since my last entry and I wanted to delete my first excerpt out of sheer embarrassment. Disappointment lingers as my calendar bleeds white where it should be drenched in ink; Scribbles marking local adventures and work trips, scattered across the country, heart symbols framing my wedding day, palm trees sketched across my honeymoon timeline… There are so many wonderful, yet undocumented memories in my rearview.
I wrote in my introductory post about passion, and this past year has been a whirlwind of me exercising my love of travel, learning the ins and outs of marriage, riding the countless soaring waves and experiencing few ocean floor fails, dabbling in new interests and picking up old hobbies. I have no excuse then, for why my blog remained untouched. But this directly correlates to my original notion, the very essence and reason for this blog. Time rolls by quickly in a thunderous fashion- It sweeps past, draws up days whether they are well-spent or not.
I want to talk about the glorification of busy. If I were to give an excuse to defend my hiatus, I would argue just that… that I have been busy. I have been occupied with my work schedule and traffic commutes and Netflix shows and weekend outings. From morning until night, time passes while carrying out usual habits: brushing teeth, showering, eating meals. I tend to obligations such as work tasks and meetings that vary in hours and level of exertion. I drive, I fly; Static periods waste my day while in the car or in the air. I crash… boy, do I crash, and time is spent binge watching shows on the couch with my better half before I have to muster up the energy to pack my bag for the following day and prepare for bed.
Our weekends boast of a more productive agenda: My husband and I venture to our local farmers market to save on fresh produce. We grocery shop. We tackle house projects and see friends and cook elaborate meals. The weekend tends to bring about better, more dynamic versions of ourselves, but we are still hitting our pillows on Sunday evenings with big sighs. We are not always refreshed. We hustle through the weekend in hopes of spending quality time together, making changes to our abode, ensuring that our weekday to-do list is minimal.
We are always busy. We are always spinning our wheels. And for what? Is our daily agenda really pushed to the max, where there is no time for anything else? How productive are we?
And are we happy?
I think about writing and I get angry. Like… smash a computer, scream into a pillow angry. The will is there, the motivation to create constantly simmers in the pit of my stomach. I fall short on the execution, the habit-forming application of shoving it into my schedule. I am currently having the same issue with a workout plan: My pants don’t fit, I look at the mirror and want to kick it, drop down on the floor and instantly bang out 1,000 push-ups… But at the end of the day, I just… don’t. It’s not that I cannot complete the tasks, but I surrender to the other things that swallow seconds.
This is what it is all about: We’ve got one life. I could have deleted my blog post, erased all record of an optimistic start, but what good would that have done? “Adding Punctuation” was created to live life out loud and I have an obligation to myself, to do what sets my soul on fire. Typing away now fills me with joy, and by holding myself accountable for my actions- or lack of- a weight has been lifted off of my chest.
When writing, I don’t feel busy. I can sift through my thoughts and organize my stream of consciousness. I can explore concepts and can document memories before stepping away from my computer, more centered.
This is good. This is me. And by shoving… metaphorically moving mountains off of my to-do list to clear space for this bit of “me” time…
I find in myself, a whole new beginning.