changing paces

for far too long now, i've been spreading myself too thin creatively. i ain't no fucking stephen king, man. ain't never gonna happen. i was once told that if i were to take up track, i would be well suited for sprints but dismal for marathons. yeah. apt.

the whole robertson davies quote thing's fucking with my head. a writer ought not write until the thought of not writing becomes unbearable. ought not. that's some really fucking powerful statement from a writer of his ilk, yeah? i mean, jeez.

i'd have to be a fucking moron to think i don't have potential. i'd also have to be a fucking moron to think wells don't run dry. i know mine has in the past, and there's nothing in this world that scares me like the thought of losing creativity. not a fucking thing. go ahead, die on me. just don't make me uninteresting. seriously, man. if i ever become boring, shoot me in the fucking head. done. over. god. to be uninteresting -- there's a fucking travesty. yeesh.

do i digress? hell. i'm deliberately pulling back a bit. i'm changing up the creative process a bit, because i'm sick of delivering under par and watering shit down. i think i'm a better writer than that, and a better speaker, and i really need to get my fucking game on. and, don't worry, i am.

focus, baby. it's all that.

i just got approval from work today for a funky new schedule. i'll be doing four 8 hour days and one 4 hour stint on the weekend (when it's quieter and my productivity shoots up by 60% -- they pay me less and get the same fucking amount of work done. weird, we're both benefitting. there, kids, go convince your bosses now. it's pragmatic to have a longer weekend.) but i can choose to work sat or sun, whenever the hell i want. 3am to 7am? sure! whatever.

this is the first weekend of that. tomorrow's a day off as well. i'm sleeping in. it's really, really working well. oh, and, ironically, my hearing aid is dying again! my warranty expires -- get this, next saturday! so, i'm dealing with that. this job SUCKS ASS for hearing aids! headphones over hearing aids in ear: recipe for moisture. eight hours a day? technological disaster. so, i'm gonna sweet-talk the audiologist into doing high-power cleaning of them for free biweekly. i think i can pull it off. i'll just have to wake up charming. then play the "my job depends on it!" card and try to convince them that if i hadn't been sold this piece-of-shit subpar aid in the first place, i wouldn't be in this boat.

anyhow. i know that, to you, the blog reader, this writing-less thing is a negative. i know, i know. and, frankly, it's addictive. i may not be able to pull back the reins. but i'm really gonna try hard to, and i think the result will be better quality writing.

after all, when words are a more coveted thing, they're liable to be better chosen, wouldn't you think? words of a rather rare air, one would hope. i'm looking forwards to feeling a little greedy about vocabulary and hording certain words for special occasions. i get obsessive-compulsive like that sometimes. okay. a lot of times.

sue me.