I'm Not a Gymnast, Maury
Try as I may, try as I might, I simply have not been getting to my keyboard every week as regularly as I would like.
Admittedly, posting to my blogs every week might be a bit excessive for me. After all, I have other creative projects I'm trying to maintain - I need to practice drawing, I should learn to play the guitar, I need to work out, for Christssake.
Even still, blogs are important to me. I have hopes and aspirations for them, for what they can do for me psychologically and creatively. However, they will never live up to their potential unless I get around to actually posting to them.
Failed Plans to Enforce Regular Blog Posts
- Remind myself daily to create a new habit
- Make color-coded weekly schedule that includes writing time
- List blogging on Weekly Objectives list in organizer
- Creating a monthly calendar of creative activities
- Make weekly trips to local coffeeshop with free wireless access
Clearly, I require a new plan.
Let us begin with #1.
1. Reminding myself daily to create a new habit is, in itself, creating a new habit. I have accomplished setting a new habit, a habit of daily self-recrimination for not starting other habits. I have both accomplished and failed here.
2. I have had some success with this. Through my recognized addiction to my BlackBerry, I have managed to schedule weekly blog writing time, as well as a nagging reminder window which pops up until I dismiss it. I've even colored coded it blue, blue for Scheduled Task. But you know what the problem is?
Impermanence.
That's right. I can move things around on my calendar. So what happens when my phone tickles me to write a blog post but I don't feel like it, I have other plans, or I am busying talking to a man with seven motorcycles but no keys? I can move my writing task to a different day or even delete it outright if I'm feeling rash.
If I had the strength of character and will to abide by these technological reminders, wouldn't I have the strength of character and will to just write my posts on my own?
3. I gave up keeping the Weekly Objectives list. It was a good idea, in principle. Make a list of those things which are most important to me to accomplish in a given week. This list was not to be used for mundane tasks. No bills to be paid, errands to be run could appear there. The Weekly Objectives list was reserved only for those actions which advanced my higher aims.
And I gave up writing it. Why did I give up writing it? Because I got tired of how many things made the list and how few got done.
I know what you're thinking. The same thing I was thinking when I encountered this problem. Why not limit myself to fewer objectives in a week? I'll tell you why. Such a short list makes one feel like you have no objectives at all. When I looked at a list of only a handful of things, I felt like I was not holding myself to a high enough standard.
Well, screw that! I hold myself to high standards or none at all! At least, apparently that is the case.
4. Monthly calendars are, in theory, a great way to accomplish these bigger objectives. Take a large scale objective, say master the art of perfectly diced onions. You break this objective into small objectives: buy onions, sharpen knife, think about cubes. Then you schedule these smaller objectives across a month, ensuring steady successes and ultimate completion.
You know the problem with this approach? The small steps can feel intensely stupid. Insanely stupid, in fact. Why do I want to learn to dice onions anyway, if it means sitting around with this stupid whetting stone sharpening a knife I bought because it was cheap at the Safeway. Pointless!
5. This one was clearly to round out a list of five. First of all, I spend enough time drinking coffee without giving myself more reasons for hyper-consumerism. Secondly, what is with that proviso about free wireless? Like I can't do this shit from home? Like my real impediment here is connectivity?
"Oh," I daily swoon, "if only I had a wireless connection, I could finally post this blog I've been working on."
Please. Even I can see through this one.
I can spin this situation any way I like. I can create a thousand systematic methods to ensure my writing and then create a thousand mechanisms to escape them. Sadly, I cannot adapt to this new way of being with the regularity and grace that I desire.
I guess I'm just not an ambiturner.
