Day upon day upon day continues the march forward of time. Each of these days of late, a spattering of words will grace the pixels that display this site, my site. Once again, I’ve been placing the effort to maintain that daily exercise.
Ideas sometimes are elusive though. They run and hide, playing with me, urging me to seek them out, to run further and further from these zones I take comfort in. Blank pages urge me to speak even as I try not to. There is much more than can be said, much more that needs to be thought out through the act of placing letters in the pattern of written words. Yet, I struggle to form them.
For days that have begun to add up into numbers that evade counting, I task myself with the idea of writing another idea. It is meant to be used for the day after this one: tomorrow. The idea is to get ahead, to have that collection of words I seek to place up on her ready and waiting for tomorrow to come. And when that day arrives, to be pushing forwards for the next tomorrow.
Too often though, it’s the morning of that I write. Under the pressure of needing to keep my own promise, I somehow pull it off. Not the things I necessarily want to explore, but rather something. Practice. At least it is that.
Today, the task will present itself again. Again, I will try to assemble the words into something. But as I sit here among this nonsensical collection of letters, it seems the task will continue as it was. There will be no getting ahead today. Maybe.