June 20th 2015
Today I almost forgot to blog. I got home at, what is it now? 4am. I got into bed. I closed my eyes and I thought “shit, blog”
It’s weird. This daily blogging is sobering. Ive been out tonight, and I refused to let myself get in an incoherent state because I knew that I had yet to blog. And I have to do this every day. I have to. So because I knew I had to be in a condition to write this when I came home, I restricted myself, I didn’t let myself get *(word for very drunk)* because of this blog.
And that’s possibly a strange thing. How many 21 year olds watch their alcohol levels because they need to go home and be in a state to write 500ish words on their day.
I do, at least.
I spent most of today with a good friend, a friend I’ve never confided in about my dreams/goals/aspirations to be a writer. But today I told him. And it was weird. He didn’t react how I expect people to react when I say that. In my head I think people will be like “what the fuck?” But he just said “fair enough, I had no idea” and then I said that I guess I’d never said anything about it because I was embarrassed.
And he didn’t know why I was embarrassed.
And I didn’t know why I was embarrassed.
It’s not embarrassing, it’s just private. When I tell people I’ve written a novel the next question they ask is “what’s it about” which is pretty much the hardest question you could ask me. Because I don’t have the perfect answer that I want yet.
Fortunately, he didn’t ask me questions. He just took it in his stride and went with it.
Until tomorrow, I was thankful for that.