It has been a while since I posted anything on this blog. I plan to retrospectively put some notes about the past month or so on here - if only for posterity. However, I shall try to get the blog going again. I miss it. In fact, I miss the process of thinking which underpins writing on here.
In other writing news, last month saw me challenged with some writing deadlines for other purposes, which stole some blogging time I suppose. I have a massive writing/rehearsing/performing challenge to undertake in the next few weeks as a friend and I prepare for our show at the Leicester Comedy Festival. February the 7th is the deadline, and if ever the word "loom" seemed appropriate, it does now. Oh my god yes.
As I discussed with a friend last night, there are two key motivating forces: motion towards a goal and motion away from a threat. I don't know why, but I'm simply not a person who deals well with threats - I just close down and ignore them. However, motion towards a goal is very much my thing, so I need to get excited about the weeks ahead. There are a fair few things to pack into them and I think that keeping an eye on that will be the salvation. If I can say (on here, or anywhere else) that I've successfully done them, then I'll have proved my motivation... and perhaps the desire for the ability to say that I've done them will itself be a motivator.
So, today's dusty day in the office (dusty of mind) needs to be put to one side and I need to get myself going.
In a final observation, I've found it quite surreal as I've been going through the artifacts from my house in Newcastle. I'm shuffling things around my current house and some of what needs shuffling is the collection of boxes of stufff from Newcastle. In some cases things will make a trip to the charity shop or bin. However, there are a few items that represent a link with the past. I'm slightly fearful of suddenly being thrust back in the past. I don't like some parts of the past. I prefer the future. All sorts of memories seem to be entering my mind of the me I used to be when I owned the things I'm finding back in my life. Though there's nothing seriously tragic or bizarre in these memories of my former self, it still feels weird - a sort of negative nostalgia.
I froze some red wine the other day. I haven't done that since living in an agreed version of domestic bliss with my ex-fiancee. It felt like something was broken to be going back to the practice. This makes no sense. If I think carefully, perhaps I'll remember doing it while single. Some part of my brain is worrying that I'm reverting to a past version of me... this makes no sense. My present reality is very good and a far cry from those days. Unfortunately, while I'm sort of in the limbo of the start of the year, where it seems to make more sense to me to hide from everything, rather than get on with it, I may as well be in the past.
The present and immediate future beckons. Now is the time to get on with it.