Sunday, June 19, 2011

The Time is Write

I've missed this little corner or the internet. I had to do a google search for my own blog. It used to be on my top sites page nestled between Regretsy and Questionable Content, but it faded into oblivion and I've missed it.

It's strange that sometimes we have things that we love and want to do but other minutia of life gets in the way. A few hours cooking and cleaning or watering the plants and you lose all of your time for hobbies after work. I want to write, to knit, to finish that puzzle scrawled across the kitchen table. Then there's my long lost loves of painting and collage my intact magazines in the box in the living room must wonder what's wrong with me that they aren't being torn apart. And I think my paint is in an old lunchbox in the garage feeling unloved. Even reading has fallen by the wayside. A box of books in the living room cries to be held, feels neglected and withered. Wonders why I even picked them up at the bookstore if I was going to just throw them around. Even video games. Who has to assign a few hours of their day solely for video games. I do. Bioshock 2 is unfinished and I'm glad that Borderlands is an RPG that doesn't cost a monthly fee.

So much time drains into random perusing of the internet or just plain spacing out. I also have developed an Aspergers like obsession with Roller derby and everything that goes with it. I search for fish net tights and drool over the Riedell site. So many hours go into looking for bearings, wheels, and of course - the perfect and untaken name. Then of course there's all the time I spend actually skating. It's refreshing and amazing and quite apparently addicting. I plan to write in the future all about this fantastic, consuming sport.

So here I am, wishing I could write more, create more, and simply have more time in the day to do things I love. I know that most of my hobbies don't take a lot of time: a few minutes to write, an hour for knitting or gaming. Spending the odd spare moment at the kitchen table fitting together puzzle pieces. But for some reason it all seems so intangible. So distant. Time seems to be working against me and idleness keeps winning. I'm trying to make it more of an urgency to do the things I love, before I look back on weeks and months spent wishing I was doing things. That was the person I was in the past. The person that wished they were living a life they loved but I want the person I am today to spend every moment blissfully involved in something that makes me feel wonderful and alive. It seems like a good idea and a reasonable goal to hold as I turn 24. I want this documentation of my life. A life lived fully and with a lot to show for it.

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