It's 2:00pm. I'm sitting at my desk in my room. I just posted an ad on craigslist to sell my bed frame for $15 or best offer. I had an almond croissant from Cafe Ladro this morning when I dropped off Caitlin at her place (which is soon to be our place). But now it is time for lunch, and I want to cook a burger when the kitchen is free.
I've put over 500 miles on the bike in a week. It was a blast. I have confirmed that I have a slow air leak. I'm going to need new tubes. I have no idea how much those run.
Mariah, Daniel, Kris, Caitlin, and I are planning a camping/motorcycle+car trip to San Juan Island. I reserved a ferry for Caitlin and I on the bike.
I'm worried about my lack of writing and overall lack of "real" productivity. I wrote the following in my notebook earlier today:
I can't seem to focus on my writing. maybe fiction writing is a fickle thing that requires a lot of stability. Or maybe it is a jealous hobby that requires all of my attention.
I think I would do best to to partition my time better. I should set aside time. I think my writing requires quiet, reliable, and steady intervals.
My writing needs guaranteed space in order to continually bloom. In order to develop my writing, I must give it the steady care reserved for growing a bonsai tree or cultivating a beautiful garden: one must not leave such a beautiful thing unattended for too long.
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