Art of Growing Old

I think “taking a break from writing” is somewhat of an oxymoron for me. Given the fact that writing is the form my relaxation most frequently takes, you would think that the “break” is kind of…you know, bundled together with that. I’ve found that that’s really not the case.

It’s like I intentionally try to forget that I don’t have to dig deep when I write. I tell myself over and over that it really is acceptable to simply start writing with no particular purpose in mind. Hell, it’s actually one of my favorite things to do but instead I pull an empty page and stare off into space. However, I must admit, this past week I tried my best to stay away from the computer as much as possible. In fact, I tried to stay away from everything as much as possible. You see, this was my week of recovery after the train-wreck that preceded it. If you haven’t heard that story, then I’m not sure where you’ve been. For the sake of the parties involved, I didn’t post the details but if you’re interested, I’m more than willing to share. I’d like to think I have the narration down perfect by now

I’m out of my hibernation/funk now, though. As always, I’m a brand new person. Can the discovery or recreation of your identity really become cliché? I mean, I guess anything can but that just seems somewhat weird to me. I just tend to do it so often that it’s nothing spectacular anymore.

“Josh changed his perspective on life”
“Oh yeah, I read that entry. When event X happened?”
“Oh no, that was yesterday. You didn’t hear about event Y?”

Maybe it’s not THAT often but it feels like it lately. If it’s not extensively flirting with a good friend, I’m ruining a moment I used to obsess over. Either that or I’m being tortured by a freaking psycho.

All that said, it’s been an adventurous year! God, I’m a little scared to see what’s next.