I haven’t had a day off from writing (for my 365 project) for 280 days. In one way it’s very admirable. Yay me! On the other hand, there are 2.2 million farmers in our country and I’m relatively certain they haven’t had a day off in years (so we can eat rather than my daily verbal useless musings). This morning, for no apparent reason other than the eight loads of laundry making a mountainous pile on my bed, seemed to be bullying me, I said out loud, “This project is really no big deal. It’s not physically grueling like exercise and I mean, I make time to eat three times a day (which is utterly time-consuming considering how much preparation and cleanup it entails), I find time to brush my teeth, and somehow I’ll successfully find a way to waste time every day too! So what’s so special about doing something every single day for 280 days? Today, my answer was, “Not much.”
Today, I felt guilty tired, eager for the project to wrap up. Here I am at 76% of the project (equal to mile 19.9 of a marathon) and I’ve reached the precise, yet familiar, part of my artistic endeavor where I doubt everything and think everything I’ve done is shit. I’m told this is perfectly in character and on queue for an artist, but this sentiment does little to appease me.
I suspect this must be somehow connected to the same neurosis as me wanting to cancel a vacation after I diligently planned it. It’s the same psychology where I wouldn’t admit I really a boy because I didn’t want to get my heart broken. Only this time, the 365-day writing project is the boy and I’ve left myself feeling horribly vulnerable by spilling my soul onto the digital pages daily.
With this last quarter ahead of me, I’m beginning to tire. 87 days to go and while I’m not worried about finishing, I’m concerned that when I do, I’ll minimize it rather than value it. After all, it will be a product I saw from conception to commitment to completion. (So what? Now what?) I’m not sure where the inclination to minimize my accomplishments comes from, but most things I achieve don’t impress me; I’m extremely judgemental and hold myself to the same high standards.
I need a break from feeling that every night is a looming deadline with a term paper due. Even if I finish my piece for today, tomorrow is merely hours away and my mind moves perpetually.
I won’t complain about being tired or scared (I just did) but I do anticipate feeling deserving of a well-earned day off on January 1st.