Do Not Think
In a previous post, I set out to list all the reasons that I do not date. By the time I was finished, I had almost talked myself out of it. That is counter-productive. I am so reluctant to make decisions at all, to question the convictions that I already have simply will not do.
I also went through the archives looking for something. Reading through old post is always depressing. I sometimes dissociate, and think, “This poor guy has been in such pain for so long… I wish that there was something that I could do.” Then I come back and realize that that guy is me, and there is nothing anyone can do. I realized that, I do not think that this was a conscious thought necessarily, but in the past I was hoping that someone would read my blog and understand my struggles and show me what I was missing. Because I was definitely missing something.
Since last summer, I have written a post per week, whether I had anything interesting to say or not. Usually not. I was telling someone recently that I thought the discipline of doing it every week was more valuable than anything I actually had to say. Although, after reading through the older posts, I wonder if the silly stuff I write about now might actually be an improvement.
In the past, I never wanted to talk about my blog in person. I do not remember why, or if I even had a reason. Now I find myself mentioning frequently in conversation, and I feel foolish every time. In the mid ’00s, everyone had a blog and nobody cared. Now we are well into the ’10s and people care even less. In fact, there is a certain comedy website whose articles lately keep slapping me in the face. Talking about your blog is pathetic. Talking about your book that you are never actually going to write is pathetic. Talking about your dream journal is pathetic.
It is almost enough to make me want to throw in the towel. But I am committed to one post a week, and again, it is not wise to rethink that.