Running Low on Inspirations

 

On the tenth day of February, I have only posted fourteen useless articles on this newly publicized blog. Not good. It should have been equal to thirty as I promised to complete three pieces a day. Sixteen to go. Won't finish all in one day. I know.

So I had to restore the poems and stories and prose. I had to promote my blog and submit the URL to search engines and Internet directories. I had to teach. I got sick from teaching and wasted one whole day to cure my headaches and another for my throat infection. I watched all Glee episodes and took thirty-five screenshots of Kurt Hummel. All these lame excuses display how easily distracted I was.

A very peculiar thing is how I tend to have discomforting headaches when I worry about writing. About how little I have written in February. It feels like I fail to meet my own deadline. Disgraceful. I need to practice higher discipline.

Even when I feel so alone and lonesome, I can't find anything to whine about. I need a genuine friend whom I can freely talk to. Or better yet, that fictional poet lover. Might he be as handsome as Darren Criss and sing as brilliantly? I wish. Either a skillful poet or a singer. I only want things I cannot have.

Sometimes I miss having a friend. But then I note that I have never had anyone at all. It has always been my diary and me. All these years. I come home and write. This same tiny room I have inhabited since I was ten, from 1990. The very bed I have slept on since I was eight. My books. They're the only friends that stay. People don't like me that much. That resentment is mutual, fortunately.

And in this twenty-first century, my NKOTB paper diary is now a weblog. The most patient of all listeners. No arguments, no conflicting oppositions. No emotional drama. It's better this way. I am speaking to myself, and will always be. Funny how it trains me to be most independent. Deleting the need of social interactions.

It's settled. I shall just write three 300-word sections in a day. Be it a poem, a diary entry, or any mindless nothingness, I don't care. As long as I write much. Entering neurotic writing mode till the next Wednesday when I teach. Leave me alone, all of you.

Friday, February 10, 2012, 10:24 PM
Running low on inspirations is from Jack Mannequin's song "My Racing Thoughts".

Image source cannot be found. If anyone knows the original page, do notify me.