I've stopped blogging.
It seemed that when I had too much to do, I always had time to procrastinate by blogging. Now that I'm working less than full time, have no homework and a pretty relaxed social life, I seem to have no time to blog.
Not that I don't want to.
I walk the streets on my commute to the grocery story or dance class with narratives running through my head. Its like I live Stranger Than Fiction except that I don't wear a watch and I am at least unaware of a chain-smoking author plotting my death. I think in prose — in third person literature — about every aspect of my life. Maybe its from my recent obsession with Nick Hornby novels. Or maybe it has to do with my mind being free for creative indulgences. Nevertheless, story lines float through my brain and I remember why I wrote screenplays as a child.
My stories are not limited to the present tense. I've even been thinking a lot about my past and have jotted down story ideas. Yet, I haven't even put a pen on a page to begin these journeys in half-fictions. I'm just unmotivated. It seems as though, now that I have no homework to do, I have no reason to blog. Blogging was my oasis from the stress of life. Now that life is not stressed, I have no need to blog, no reason to share my thoughts.
Today, I'm blogging solely because I'm supposed to be studying. Old habits die hard, and with a GRE book open next to me, I'm checking birthday messages on facebook and writing these wondering thoughts. Soon, I'll have an idea of where these tangential thoughts will lead me. Soon I'll have processed enough to share some thoughts but today, this short rambling is all I have.
And today is my 23rd birthday. And now, I have written you 23 sentences — enjoy.
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