I Don’t Know, Man.
Dum dee doo da, it’s a freewrite and a practice. Do it to do it.
Draft headline: Why I write when I don’t feel like it.
Next thought: Fuck headlines.
I can’t be bothered.
I’m a little bothered
I don’t know, man.
I need to update my CV. I need to clean my home. I need to finish the things I started. I need to start new things. I need to curl up in fetal position and watch something on Netflix that will make me laugh. I need to get off the computer phone screen social media online consumption hamster wheel. I spent the summer living by a forest in the north of Israel. I meditated and wrote and lived in the deep places. I’ve been in a process of emerging from the deep places.
Transitions are hard.
Bitching on the internet is sometimes hard, and there are plenty of writings that bitch about how hard it is to bitch on the internet.
I don’t like how many times I said the word ‘bitch,’ except I guess it doesn’t bother me enough that I would edit it.
I’ve been half thinking about the song ‘Bitch,’ and connecting to the lyrics
I’m a bitch, I’m a lover, I’m a child, I’m a mother, I’m a sinner I’m a saint
I’m freewriting, I guess.
I’m procrastinating something, maybe.
I’m showing up, also. Following through on a commitment that one of my selves decided on (write twenty five minutes a day, every day, and click publish).
I repeat myself repeat repeat it’s all repetitions.
I’m writing this without a goal, which does not lead to good quality writing, but I guess I’m going for Practice over quality right now. Done is better than perfect, I’m not perfect, my writing is a far cry from perfect, but let me do something and call it Done.
dum dee doo. the sky is blue. I don’t know what else to say.
The first thing I do is write down in my journal that Today is the best day of my life. Sometimes this feels very True, and sometimes it comes off as contrived.
I’ve been eating for self-comfort lately, I wish that I would not do that.
I’ve been pushing myself outside of my comfort zone lately. I’m doing more, living different.
It is hard to change.
Yes I’m changing, yes I’m gone. Yes I’m older yes I’m moving on.
When I first moved to Israel 5.5 years ago, I listened to Tame Impala and this song on repeat.
I saw it different, I must admit. I caught a glimpse I’m going after it. They say people never change but that’s bullshit, they do.
Yes I’m changing.
I know (and I know that I don’t know).
I hear the neighbors speaking outside of my door.
I’m not sure why I am writing here.
I continue anyway.
I guess that is what I want to say.
I guess that is what I am going to do.
I guess that’s the takeaway I leave for you.
It’s not always pretty smart polished or well-said.
But it’s something and it’s a practice and it’s almost time for bed.