On Monday I made a very small announcement on one of my social media platforms that I was going to do a blog a day, for a week. (I thought about a month but I'm not ready). I just wanted to test myself, just for one week. And guess what, I failed.
Monday and Wednesday I updated my personal blog with some good stuff, and on Tuesday I blogged for my business site, about cleaning up your social media. So I was feeling pretty good that I'd achieved some kind of flow. I knew why I was doing it; I wanted to bring real consistency to my writing, because, ultimately, that's all I want to do (as well as my photography). I thought I could make it a daily practise, so that each time I wrote, it was as simple as sitting down at a piano and playing without music.
I also planned what I would blog about, which I don't usually do, so I had a list of four other things to blog about for the remaining days of the week. I'd also sorted out how my Thursday would go; I would wake up early, do some yoga, do one hour of work, then write the blog, before getting ready to meet a friend I hadn't seen in a long time. Early in the morning, she cancelled, and from there, it's like my mind said, 'great, now we can really get some work done', and I just sat at my computer for three hours backing up work. Don't get me wrong, that backing up session is going to come in helpful on Monday and Tuesday, as I'm going to the British Hairdressing Awards, an event famous for its endless cocktail sessions, so no regrets there. But once I'd done that work, I guess because I'd veered away from my initial plan, my entire day ran a little more organically, or at least practically. I knew I needed to cook, but I wanted to make sure I got my yoga in. I did 30 minutes and then did a short arm workout, then I decided to cook dinner early, so I could get back to the blog.
Three hours later, I'd made enough food to last us a couple of days. I cleaned up, showered (don't judge, I barely drew a sweat in my yoga) and then sat down at my laptop, again. Of course I checked my emails, and because I'm working on a big project right now, I thought it 'made sense' to answer a few and download a few essential items. Then I shopped the Black Friday deals on Asos for 20 minutes or so. Oh and then I ordered our groceries for the weekend, online. Then I checked my Instagram as someone I interviewed had tagged me... By then it was almost 4pm.
Historically I do not write after 4pm. Not because there's anything wrong with 4pm; it's more a case of, I do my best writing anytime between 6am and 11am. After that I do more practical stuff, and once it gets to 2pm I'm likely done for the day.
I wanted to blog, I really did. I'd said that I would. But once the BF got in from work, we opened a bottle of wine and discussed our current Big Project (more on that later), and I just wanted to stay snuggled on the couch, watching Queen Sugar and Masterchef The Professionals.
I didn't beat myself up about it; it was what it was. But today I feel kinda lame; like, I couldn't even commit to a blog a day for seven days? KMT. I was so set on doing the small things, so that they would hopefully add up to the big things, but you know what? I have enough to worry about, and I really don't need to hold myself hostage over this. I don't need to judge myself. I'm here today, so that's good enough.
See you tomorrow.