Just over here watching myself crumble and stumble into my usual pattern of being super motivated at the start of something, allowing that excitement to wash over me, then all of it falling to the wayside (Substack). But I suppose this time there was a reason, or two actually: 1. I had a camping trip which required lots of planning and strategic packing and energy. 2. I got covid upon returning.. which I still have. Ok ok, make that three.
3. The fact that I’ve once again allowed d*ck into my life. When I’m actively dating, it has the tendency to take precedence over everything (especially the way I date, which is never just one guy at a time). This is something I have to constantly revisit with my therapist: extremes. I approach everything in life in extremes; black or white, all or nothing, now or never. I’ve gotten a lot better, but I need to try harder in a couple areas. That is: I need to learn once and for all how to balance dating with the rest of my life. If my dating life was lamer, it’d probably be easier.
The point of this lil note is to say: I AM NOT GIVING UP ON SUBSTACK. Most things I get excited about I do give up on and never care to pick back up, cos they don’t mean anything to me. But making this Substack, as sad as it may sound, has meant a lot to me. It has symbolized and materialized and mitigated many lifelong personal beliefs for me. It’s something I’ve lacked and missed and needed for years: a proper place to put my writing. Not just random unorganized notes in my phone. Not just a cheap notebook that I fill ten pages of then forget about. Not just an Instagram caption I lure people into reading by posting provocative pics. Substack is my new livejournal, my new blogspot, my new safe haven where I can write whatever I want, whenever I want, and it’s all for me (but others can read it too if they really want to).
Covid has been absolute trash. I was bedridden for five days straight. I’ve wanted to write and felt shitty knowing I have paid subscribers that I’ve given nothing for weeks, but have just felt so fucking weak and dizzy and cruddy. Just today though, I’ve been able to think a tad clearer and actually be somewhat functional. I swept the house, did some laundry, cleaned the bathroom, washed the dishes, made an omelette, oiled my cutting boards, steeped some teas, and got excited thinking about the day I get to come out of isolation. Excited to snuggle my friends and snog my boys. Also excited to get back to work cos my job doesn’t provide PTO, and uh.. I have bills to pay and people to help.
Part of me hates being sick cos I can’t do much of anything except be an absolute incompetent incoherent baby. But the other part of me thinks whenever I get sick this is my body giving itself a break from life and people and thinking. Sure it feels shitty and like I’m gonna die sometimes, but I also get to sleep twenty hours a day with good excuse. A real staycation where you don’t even leave your house. Like when you’d build a fort in your living room as a kid, and it felt like you were away from home somewhere special and different. Maybe that’s what being sick is — a mental fort.
PS I suppose the threads = more casual, sporadic, unedited life updates, whereas the actual posts = more focused, fine-tuned, planned writing pieces.
EASING BACK IN
EASING BACK IN
EASING BACK IN
Just over here watching myself crumble and stumble into my usual pattern of being super motivated at the start of something, allowing that excitement to wash over me, then all of it falling to the wayside (Substack). But I suppose this time there was a reason, or two actually: 1. I had a camping trip which required lots of planning and strategic packing and energy. 2. I got covid upon returning.. which I still have. Ok ok, make that three.
3. The fact that I’ve once again allowed d*ck into my life. When I’m actively dating, it has the tendency to take precedence over everything (especially the way I date, which is never just one guy at a time). This is something I have to constantly revisit with my therapist: extremes. I approach everything in life in extremes; black or white, all or nothing, now or never. I’ve gotten a lot better, but I need to try harder in a couple areas. That is: I need to learn once and for all how to balance dating with the rest of my life. If my dating life was lamer, it’d probably be easier.
The point of this lil note is to say: I AM NOT GIVING UP ON SUBSTACK. Most things I get excited about I do give up on and never care to pick back up, cos they don’t mean anything to me. But making this Substack, as sad as it may sound, has meant a lot to me. It has symbolized and materialized and mitigated many lifelong personal beliefs for me. It’s something I’ve lacked and missed and needed for years: a proper place to put my writing. Not just random unorganized notes in my phone. Not just a cheap notebook that I fill ten pages of then forget about. Not just an Instagram caption I lure people into reading by posting provocative pics. Substack is my new livejournal, my new blogspot, my new safe haven where I can write whatever I want, whenever I want, and it’s all for me (but others can read it too if they really want to).
Covid has been absolute trash. I was bedridden for five days straight. I’ve wanted to write and felt shitty knowing I have paid subscribers that I’ve given nothing for weeks, but have just felt so fucking weak and dizzy and cruddy. Just today though, I’ve been able to think a tad clearer and actually be somewhat functional. I swept the house, did some laundry, cleaned the bathroom, washed the dishes, made an omelette, oiled my cutting boards, steeped some teas, and got excited thinking about the day I get to come out of isolation. Excited to snuggle my friends and snog my boys. Also excited to get back to work cos my job doesn’t provide PTO, and uh.. I have bills to pay and people to help.
Part of me hates being sick cos I can’t do much of anything except be an absolute incompetent incoherent baby. But the other part of me thinks whenever I get sick this is my body giving itself a break from life and people and thinking. Sure it feels shitty and like I’m gonna die sometimes, but I also get to sleep twenty hours a day with good excuse. A real staycation where you don’t even leave your house. Like when you’d build a fort in your living room as a kid, and it felt like you were away from home somewhere special and different. Maybe that’s what being sick is — a mental fort.
PS I suppose the threads = more casual, sporadic, unedited life updates, whereas the actual posts = more focused, fine-tuned, planned writing pieces.