So it’s been a month solid that I’ve been sleeping outside. Every day is a lesson in teaching myself what it means to have a routine. Starting from the bare-bones of it all, it’s hard to see where the tasks start sometimes. Dreaming up the big picture was easy. However, it didn’t take long to put it out on paper and start taking notes of the days and planning it all out. Creating a schedule is a key component to this abrupt lifestyle. And I say “abrupt” because not that long ago, there were responsibilities that were already laid out which was easy to do and accomplish. Here, that is a totally different story.
I am the master of my destiny and my garden.
Waking up everyday has been quite difficult because of an apparent insomnia caused by the rigid cold of this valley. With a creek on one side and a river on the other, the causal drafts of wind bring the chill of winter with it. So, I tend to stay up as late as I can to force myself into tiredness. And I suppose being alone at night encourages this behaviour.
In a matter of a couple of weeks, we will have achieved getting into the actual residence of the place and will have started our garden. Today (2.1.17) it starts actually. It’s really cold right now, and the place where I am currently typing has no front door and my hands are freezing. But I type nonetheless. Without music and a tiny heater. I have music, Dear Reader, but there is something about this silence that makes me write. Perhaps the sound of my pressing of each key. Kind of makes me feel more authentic.
I’ve been writing my story that I’ve been working on, but mostly just editing. There is a fair deal of work that still needs to be done as to why I’m writing it in the first place. At first, I suppose that it was just a quick free-write that turned out to be a whole idea, but then I got to thinking: What is the message? In which the writer’s block ensued. So for now, I’m going back and tweaking parts here and there. Which suffices my need to occupy my time when I’m not doing garden activities.
On my third cup of coffee, the existential questions start flooding in and I wonder if the plot of the story is worth it? In hindsight, I think it’s as generic as can be. The type of generic plot that would be referenced in a B-film. Which is why I’m thinking so hard about what it is that I can do to try and make it my own flavour.
Dialogue will almost always be a crucial part in any story. And I feel like that has always come naturally to me. It’s all those tiny spaces between, where all the details should connect, that get to me. Continuity is both an enemy and a friend. So it helps to go over everything a billion times. As of right now, to be honest to myself, it is being drawn out to the point that something in the story needs to change. A disaster or a miracle needs to happen.
Perhaps which is the reason I have said writer’s block.
The need to find a muse actually haunts me. To the point where I feel like I’m in the book Haunted: by Chuck Palahnuik. The only thing that I’m missing is a front door to lock me in. And I suppose that all this time I’ve spent trying to follow my own path has led me here. In retrospect, this is everything that I’ve wanted. Such is the life of a Steppenwolfe.
Now, trying to force myself to write is something I’ve learned to avoid. The story becomes like an instrument out of tune. The basics are there, but there is no life or love in it. No inspiration that could be bequeathed to the reader. Essentially missing the target. Trying to attain that spark that started it all in the first place is also challenging and I hope to find that spark once again in the garden. (Where I have a lot of my ideas!)
Getting my head back on straight is taking a bit longer than I had expected, but that is life I suppose. Trying to lose my mind in books helps, albeit I am using them as sedatives to help me fall asleep. The only real thing left to do is start from the beginning, bare-bones as I have said before, and remember that everything starts somewhere. The natural order of things come to pass whether we are ready for them or not. And some of us are more ready then others.
Even though I struggle to get a grip sometimes, it is my duty to learn as much as I can and document it for the future. At least that is something positive I can leave with the world once I am gone. Thank you Dear Reader for your time.