I woke up earlier today than I do on days when I set my alarm, and the general sense of accomplishment from an extra hour’s being awake is a bit amazing. I haven’t done much, unless you consider two cereal-based meals and several run throughs of a Lily Allen CD ‘productive’.
Speaking of CDs, has everyone ordered Chantal Claret’s new record?
See, you should. Go here ASAP. I’m jazzed to get it, partly because Chantal is my favourite musician to dance around my room to, and partly because I’m excited that a legit professional artist person decided last week to release a handmade CD instead of going through the rigmarole of a record label. It makes me want to hand-staple a novel, you know?
I’m going back to my very busy schedule of enjoying Sunday so I don’t burn out by Tuesday now… have a good one!
Given that since I’m self-employed, weekends can technically happen whenever I like; there’s nothing to stop me from taking Wednesday and Thursday off, for example, then working the actual weekend. But I still quite enjoy the quietness of Sundays.
Oh wait there is a thing to stop me and it’s called money. I work during the weekend too!
Anyway, today I was feeling that feeling that’s really hard to describe except by writing ‘eugh’ or ‘bleh’, but whatever it is I was experiencing it this evening so I buried myself in Pride and Prejudice with a mug of hot chocolate and briefly pretended I was the main character in a bad romantic comedy. To be totally honest part of me is still pretending a little bit… Reading a really compelling book always makes me feel a million times better, like a really good sleep.
I was about to say that reading decent work also makes my writing better but I just read all that back and I think it might take a couple more literary masterpieces to improve my conviction that I should type using as few commas as possible. See.
But I have remembered that if I want to write well then I need to read well and have resolved to get down to my library and possibly actually read The Fault in Our Stars. Or Hitchhiker’s Guide. Or The Fellowship of the Ring. Or something that isn’t my Tumblr dashboard.
Maybe I just really need to spend less time on the same five websites, most of which are full of the same type of ‘WE WILL TALK AND YOU WILL LISTEN BECAUSE WE ARE THE ONES TALKING’ people. You know the type; they think that because they’ve carved out a cute little corner of the Internet, they deserve to be listened to and respected in every other corner of the Internet.
Or maybe I ought to just work out a better work/play routine than the one I currently have. Due to its inherent lack of structure and reliance on social media it often sees me in ‘work mode’ in inappropriate places, like during films or on trips to London, but then during the day (after a night of dodgy sleep because have I got that copywriting email begrudging me £2.50 yet?) I’m exhausted and slump on the sofa watching awful adverts with some TV sandwiched between.
Right, I’m off to work on Jacki’s MCR poemto clean my roomto have a bath. Sod it I might go back to Lydia’s elopement with Wickham.