So I said I'd post something every month. Then I didn't. I skipped July. In August I did 30 days of drawing. Then I skipped September.
There's not really an excuse. One blog post a month is incredibly manageable. It's not like I'm writing theses or tomes. My last post was a list of imaginary parties I'd skip to sleep! But even though I pretty much only write jokes, I take it somewhat seriously. I want them to be funny and new and actually good.
Sometimes my standards for "funny and new and actually good" are too high. Sometimes they're not really standards at all, they're just a list of reasons not to write. Sometimes they're stifling. After all, I'm only a writer for the attention.
Recently, one of my Creative Directors asked me if I write every day. I said no. He said I should try. I said "great idea!" and then I did not try. Not that day or the next day either. But then I was bored, so I decided to try. I wrote a haiku about my water bottle. Then I wrote a haiku about every single thing on my desk. Here's a sample:
Getting to 10k
Is really NBD
My pants still don't fit
Easy Mac 'n Cheese
In my second drawer always
You would fuck me up
Don’t click the spam links
IT is tricking you, duh.
Can’t reel me in, bitch!
I actually wrote about 15. I wrote one about the Paddington Bear my mentor gave me for basically no reason but that I've kept on my desk for 3 years and 3 jobs anyway. I wrote about my empty lunch Tupperware. I wrote about my headphones. Several about messy stacks of paper. They were silly but they were fun and I felt better.
But then I got tired of writing haikus, so after my long 2 day streak of writing every day, I stopped writing for approximately 20 days. And then today I decided to start again. Not with haikus, but with limericks. This time about the contents of my backpack.
A bottle of a drug called Vyvanse
Helps me do things, like water the plants
Does not control me
Thanks to the concentration this grants
Bills Bills Bills
Like 12 crumpled up unpaid bills
Ironic, because of those pills.
Don't worry, I'll pay 'em
I just checked. The grand sum?
Twelve dollars. Incompetence kills!
A lot of snacks that I just won't eat
Mostly, they're just not a good treat.
I don't want a raisin
I'd rather be grazin'
On some sour candy so sweet.
The keys to my Brooklyn apartment
Tucked into the small front compartment.
This rhyme scheme was bold,
I’ll finish by using “department”
I wrote 7 more of these. Some of them were funny. Some of them were sort of bleak? All of them made me want to clean out my backpack, which I won't do until next time I want to procrastinate writing, I guess. I spent way more time trying to wrestle with this squarespace template than I did writing the poems and this blog post combined. But at least I did it. Maybe tomorrow I'll write a sonnet. Most likely, I won't write anything. But there's always the day after that!