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Tuesday, May 26, 2015

routine


It took several years for me to embrace the somewhat daily discipline of touching base with myself on blogs. Once I got into the habit, it took another couple of years to embrace the interruptions that keep me from focusing on enjoying the brain workout of daily blogging. That's really what it is, isn't it? Writing something down every day is an exercise, and sometimes it's hard and sucks the same way that committing to a 30 minute workout every day does. So when alone time with one's brain creeping out into the soft static of the world Borg mind becomes enjoyable, something getting in the way of that can make a person feel kinda pissy. And then learning to let it go can turn it into work all over again when it's time to get back into routine. Routine iz hard, yo.


That's why I blog the way I do. I make it really enjoyable to come back because I would otherwise be so bored and frustrated with the written word that I'd maliciously envision visiting horrible consequences all over my laptop, either in forums or actually on my laptop. ZZztTTT There, you stupid keyboard, want some COFFEE? Can you keep up NOW??? See, if I had minions, they'd look more like spiders because I'm evil and would go on gleeful stomping frenzies.


I'd rather be cool, you know? Not just someone losing it and throwing things.


A wise man once said, "Don't dream it. Be it." I heard the playwright actually got that off a cigarette ad, but who cares.


You thought I was done, didn't you? I'm not done. I actually did do some writing over the holiday weekend. I've been noticing over the last 8 weeks that writing seems to suddenly have become remarkably easy. I'm no longer struggling when I sit down and continue painting my canvas. I was kind of joking about the whole thing through April, but I guess it was real.

I couldn't read until I got into the second grade. Thankfully I got a teacher who was all into phonetics. Suddenly words became a game.

My third grade teacher made sentence structuring a game. I began to write.

My fifth grade teacher made reading a game. I had the second longest bookworm in the class.

My sixth grade teacher showed me with a special projector that I'm actually a speed reader.

I figured out by high school that I can glance through books and accurately summarize them without being conscious of what I've read.

College was like a circus smorgasbord at which I excelled without understanding, and learned that my communication skills were dismal. I discovered a secret key and unlocked a door to a gigantic maze.

The internet was a joyous brawl without direction until I learned I can make and lose friends.

Blogs helped me practice in the long, dark nights after my world shattered and all hope was gone.

A psychologist helped me understand that my problem really is me. I saw myself for the first time.

I am Aspienado. I've worked long and hard to reach this place. There is no magic involved. I'm not that savant. (I believe we are all beautiful and magical.) Because I kept pushing myself into a routine, I am writing.

I'm writing pain.


And I'm writing joy.


And one day, Lord willing, you will see it. Time to GET BACK TO WORK! >=l


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