I’m reading a book that says blogging takes no time as it’s just like writing a letter.
I know what it means, but I think that ‘lack of time’ might have more to do with perceived effort (or lack of it). I could quite happily spend half the day writing emails and letters… you look up and it’s gone dark outside, with the neighbours’ lights appearing one by one.
I also read that we mustn’t blog when we are angry… I’m not angry now, but earlier I was peeved, disgruntled, flat, ruffled… and I didn’t know why. Everything seemed more effort than it was worth. Searching Google just now, I glimpsed, in passing, the words that happiness can be achieved through ‘love and work’. Also I glimpsed that boredom and loss of impetus can arise when feeling uncertain of your goals. Boredom — in its worst form — makes you feel that there’s no point to anything whatsoever. Trying to press on with a project when you’re in that kind of mood makes you feel like your brain is oozing out through your ears.
Love and work… just like writing letters… no perceived effort? A simple life, perhaps, living within rules that you understand? Is it that simple, or does it depend on the work? Perhaps having to constantly update our skills, learn new paths and become used to new environments makes everything seem a more uphill task? Especially if we have any doubts about the value of what we’re doing.
I’m not sure why I got so annoyed tonight, as though someone was stroking my fur the wrong way. My eyesight is not what it was… its inflexibility puts a spanner in the works, for instance when I’m studying a magazine article and then looking at the computer screen to type a URL or follow some tips. It becomes more of a peering, craning, removing-and-replacing-spectacles slog. You’re expending more effort trying to read something that’s not quite clear (especially when it jumps around on the screen because it’s a slow-loading site) and less energy just getting on with whatever it was you wanted to do.
It was a relief to pull off those glasses altogether and sit down with a book (Patrick O’Brian’s ‘The Surgeon’s Mate’) and lose myself in that world; reading about other people’s problems and joys. Some very big problems are reduced to “I’m a bit worried, I confess,” and “I’ll just have a word in the ear of a gentleman I know”. It’s not even that simple, as you have to read between the lines, but the calm language helps you reappraise the ups and downs of your own life. The energy and enthusiasm of the characters, along with their love and work, become mine… at least for a little.