Transitioning into my new life has been a struggle for a number of reasons, but suffice to say that I simply haven't focused: I've allowed myself to be sidetracked by social engagements, helping and caring for other people, and the Tour de France. While all these things are important they all need to be put in their proper place.
I'm pretty sure that I've said before that discipline, even if it's a loose discipline, is essential for a writer and an artist. My friend Alexandra told me yesterday that she has spent four straight days painting and decorating her new art studio--my reaction, "Frick, I wish I could do that." Obviously I was and am excited for her, more than I'd expect considering I probably will never see this studio so it has no effect on me. Still, my own determination level pales in comparison. I feel like I'm living in an old Russian Siberian concentration camp when I realize that I'm failing at my own life. Harsh judgment? Not really, because I promised myself that I'd loosely follow a daily/weekly schedule a month ago, which I had planned out months before that, and I have yet to do so. Even if I am taking this year to myself to recover and orient mentally, spiritually, and emotionally, and any other -ly adverbs, I'm still failing.
So, this post is meant to serve at least two purposes: 1) Impress you with the life that I want to live, 2) Force myself to live into it by publishing my intended schedule. Mostly, you should be impressed, because a lot of work goes into being a cultured genius like me, let alone a cultured-genius writer.
Five days a week, not necessarily Monday-Friday, not necessarily any set days actually, my plan is to wake up and eat breakfast. Ground-breaking. While eating said breakfast--I don't ever settle for less than whole milk--I hope to be reading a newspaper, Newsweek, or The Economist; then while I'm digesting for an appropriate amount of time before my bike ride, spending some time with the Bible, in Greek--as long as I haven't forgotten the language entirely since graduation. See how awful being lazy is?--the Bible is important to me because it gives me a thought-focus during my bike ride, enhancing my ride and centering me for the day ahead. Usually I like to recover for a couple of hours after a ride, so while I'm doing that I'll be reading whatever I'm reading as my day-book (right now I'm reading Activating the Passive Church, terribly boring) and napping if I feel like it. After all that, I finally get to the writing. I'll write straight through dinner, hopefully having my dinner brought to me because I want to feel special, and even the start of a Bruins game--gasp--until 9ish. Then I'll study Spanish for a little bit so that I can be fluent, with fingers crossed, before I travel to Puerto Rico to reconnect with my ancestors and suches; then read my night-book, which is usually a history book; sleep by 11, and start all over as close to 7 in the morning as possible.
The other two days of the week will basically be the same except without the writing. These two days are my so-called rest days. I say "so-called" because if I'm going to take my bike, Cato, for a special ride--to Hawthorne's grave, for example--then I'll do so on a non-writing day. It's also "so-called" because these rest days will be when I make home-made soap and detergent, take care of my garden, organize my desk and my writing space, and organize my writing materials.
My rest days will include restful activities, though. I've been working on a painting for two months now. Painting has also suffered from my indecisiveness in transitioning. Movie-watching is a must. And if all goes well, I might continue teaching myself how to play the guitar. Rest nights are when I'm available for social activities, as long as they feed my 1800's social gathering leanings, and when I finish off my day-book readings. Two to three books a week should be my average reading speed. Somewhere in there I should have included videogames, too. Those are key to my mental health. Of course, doing jigsaw puzzles are also key to my mental health, but with videogames lying around it's hard to purposely choose a puzzle.
Basically, if I finally actually live into this schedule of life--starting tomorrow--I'll be one of the greatest persons to ever live. I'm already one of the best persons, but I'm trying to upgrade to the greatest plateau.
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