I don’t understand why I can’t sit down and keep writing the way I used to be able to. Or perhaps I was never actually able to? Perhaps I don’t understand myself as well as I think I do. I have a very low capacity for focused concentration. I can only ever write large chunks when I’m in one of those obsessive, keep-writing-without-stopping-to-think kind of states. At least, that’s what I think. I’m trying to engage that right now. But what I really need is to find some sort of balance, a good pace.

I could probably summarize most of the problems I face as an inability to pace myself effectively, or an inability to be effectively progressive. I tend to have an all-or-nothing mindset, which is rarely a good strategy. There are contexts where it is, of course- but that’s not what I’m going to focus on, because I’ve been doing enough of that all my life. Just because I get away witht the problem, as I see it, is that I don’t learn from my mistakes as much as I should. I guess that’s the point of moments like this, to try and make up for my weaknesses by consciously confronting them. Still, it always seems so slow. But my mistake is thinking “if it’s moving slowly, it’s not worth bothering with.”

Most great things happen gradually. I know this intellectually, but I haven’t gotten around to re-wiring my impulses and instincts to work with it- because, ironically, that can only be done gradually, and I never quite have the patience for such things. It’s like this self-defeating loop that takes substantial effort to break out of.

On a side note, I’m always interested in figuring out how to measure that sort of effort. How much effort does it take to quit smoking, for instance? How much effort does it take to get yourself out of a destructive relationship, or to work consistently at your academic studies? There always seems to be a sort of tipping point, where one day eventually you just can’t live with yourself anymore and you take the leap- but how much goes into that leap? Do all the previous failed attempts still count, in some way? I feel like it must.

Why is that the case? I’m pretty sure it shouldn’t have to be. I envy people like Richard Feynman, Carl Sagan and Michio Kaku who clearly enjoy themselves greatly when they’re at work.

Perhaps I should pick up long-distance running or something else that requires that sort of persistent, consistent effort.

I find myself thinking about what Haruki Murakami said about endurance and focus. I don’t really have very much of either, to be honest with you. And that’s kind of a sad and painful thing to accept- that I’m 21 years old, and I am fairly incapable of focusing on any task. I am constantly desirous of distractions. I can accomplish anything except the matter at hand- isn’t that sad, and kind of pathetic? We live in a digital world that sort of encourages that, we all sort of commiserate together on Facebook and whatnot about how little progress we’re making with our essays, and there’s an entire industry built around distracting people from their work. That strikes me as rather poor design on the part of schools and workplaces. (or, if you flip it around- superior design on the part of the Distractors.) We somehow have accepted the assumption that work is supposed to be dreary, difficult and tedious- it’s supposed to make you want to bang your head against the table or wall, and distractions provide comfort and relief.

The question is, why is the amount of effort one puts into becoming an effective World of Warcraft player somehow less of a chore than the amount of effort it takes to become a good musician, writer or student, even? It seems to boil down to a matter of experience design.

I suppose with a lot of games it’s clearly laid out for you- this is who you are now, and this is who you can become if you complete these tasks. Some of these tasks are interesting, fun and fulfilling in themselves- some of them are boring and mindless but you’re going to have to get through them if you want to get to where you want to go, which is over there. You know with some degree of certainty that this is how things are going to work out, and for the most part real life isn’t quite as certain. Or at least, it doesn’t feel that way.

I’m wondering now if I should get started with researching and writing about game dynamics. It seems like a good idea. Gotta get through it.

I suppose we all need to spend some time every day thinking about what we want, because if it’s not clearly laid out in front of us, we’re not going to be very clear about what we ought to be doing. So we have to create our own narratives, plan our own personal growth. And the amazing (if not kinda terrifying) thing is that there aren’t really any limits. We can be pretty much anybody we wanna be. This tends to overwhelm us- there are too many choices, too many options- and we end up stagnating, being the same version of ourselves, staying at the same level. That’s a shame.

Perhaps then it might make sense to impose some arbitrary limitations to force ourselves to grow in a specific way, so that we become more effective after those limitations are removed. It makes sense when practicing a craft, as a musician or writer- so perhaps it should apply to life in a broader sense, too. I suppose that’s why we get into committed relationships- because it’s kind of hard to grow if you never stay in one spot long enough to take root. That’s a rather subjective and debatable idea, though, and I wouldn’t want to read too deeply into that. Point is, restrictions should encourage creativity, not diminish it. Too much space and freedom seems like it should encourage creativity, but it often diminishes it- because when we can think of absolutely anything we want, we tend to think about the things that we habitually think of. This makes me think of Edward de Bono’s ideas about lateral thinking and creativity- things like random entry techniques and intentional provocations. It’s hard to come up with a good idea by itself. But it’s fairly easy to come up with a bad idea. What’s fun, and often surprisingly effective, is to think of a bad idea and then challenge yourself to tweak it- be it the idea itself, or the circumstances- until it becomes a good idea. Because often we’re most limited by our habits and assumptions- so there’s a need to make a concerted effort to break from them.

I feel like I’m just saying things that I already sort-of know, and things that aren’t really original or new ideas, and I’m not even really saying them in a particularly interesting or effective way. Ah well. Whatever gets the engine running, right? I think it was Hemingway who implied that it’s necessary to write a hundred pages of crap for every page of good writing. Or consider the idea that half of the money spent on advertising is wasted, but you can never know “which half”. I suppose the basic idea in there is that generative, creative work can never be sublime and profound all the time. That’s just the way it is. You have to go through the rhinestones to find the diamonds. Not every sketch can be a work of art. Not every ejaculation deserves a name. Et cetera.

So could this be a start of a daily rambling project? Do I have space for that amongst everything else I want to do? Perhaps it might be the most prudent thing to do of all. If you wanna run marathons, you gotta be running pretty much every day. If I want to be writing books- and I do- then I’m going to have to get used to generating large quantities of text. That is all. I can worry about trimming away excess, useless clutter later. And if you’re going to judge me for it- well, whatever, man! I’m pretty much through second-guessing myself and worrying so much about this and that. I have to believe in myself- or rather, if not in myself, than in the validity and value of all the ideas and perspectives I’ve had the honour of being exposed to over the years- and trust that if I keep going long enough, the good stuff will reveal itself sooner or later. The only thing that I can be absolutely-truly-certain of is that it won’t happen if I don’t try.

Of course, I will need to look back on these writings and mine them- distill the good stuff, process, buff, shine, all that fun stuff.

On hindsight, I remember my earlier blogging days- back when I was 13 or 14, and writing large blocks of text practically every day, including weekends. I didn’t have any specific agenda then, any long term plans. Perhaps that’s what allowed me to write with such freedom- I just wanted to write, that’s all. The same logic might apply to the large quantities of reading I was doing then- I was reading because I was enjoying the state of reading, rather than to achieve any extrinsic end. So it really just boils down to doing what you love, and loving what you do. Obviously. The more you worry about achieving some long-term goal, it seems, the harder it’s going to be to achieve it. At least, that appears to be the case for me. I just gotta let go, loosen up and keep doing this.

1600+ words, wow. No sweat. Gotta keep doing this.

I suppose somewhere along the way, I got self-conscious of my tendency to ramble. People would judge me for it, tell me that I talked too much, and ask me to get to the point, or sometimes just to shut up. It worried and upset me, I thought there might have been something wrong with me, that I needed to do something to fit in a little better. (On hindsight, one of the guys who’d make fun of my rambling the most was also great lip service patron of tolerance, acceptance and being “different”. I suppose you can only be different in an acceptable way, huh?)

But hey, screw that. I know myself better now, and this is something that shouldn’t have to change- rather, I need to learn to work with it. Generate, THEN trim. There’s no sense in being all worried about what other people think, especially if they don’t understand me or relate to me very much in any way. The trick then, I suppose, would be to exploit something like this- to ramble as much as possible in a space where THOSE people don’t have to hear it- and they can’t complain about it unless they make a remarkable effort to go out of their way to come here- so that I can keep comfortably silent when I have to, and unleash the polished diadems of truth and wisdom when appropriate- having worked on them in private.

Yes, that sounds about right. Of course, it’s probably a bit more complicated than that. But we’ll play it by ear.