Even though I hate to admit this (even to myself, let alone to the world), I’ve been lazy. This year may have thrown so much curve balls in my direction, but ultimately I’m still standing. Metaphorically limping and still catching my breath after some punches in the stomach, but still standing. So the bottom line is these shouldn’t have been reasons for me to procrastinate with so many aspects of my existence.
I’ve been lazy with reading, even though I’d set a goal of 20 books by the end of the year. It’s true I’ve read a lot more articles than I used to, but 3 books out of 20 is not a dazzling performance. Since I actually have two weeks off for the holidays this year, I may just have a chance of reaching at least half of my target.
I’ve especially been lazy with my writing. Which is shameful. No other word comes to mind more that’s more appropriate, even if it comes off a bit strong. For someone who’s wanted to become a writer since she realised she’s actually not bad at this, I’ve committed the worst sin of all: relying of the shred of talent I (hope) I have and not applying myself enough. Being a writer has never been simply about inspiration and the muses being willing to drop by often enough to finish a short story or a novel. Writing also requires hard work and a self-discipline that I believe a lot of us lack. This deficiency is what possibly causes many potential writers to fail in their endeavour before they even begin.
I’d promised myself to post at least once a week, but have disappointingly realised during a yearly review of this blog that in the almost 5 years since I started it (this is probably the longest relationship I’ve had so far – a love story with my writing) I’ve never had so few posts published. The material was there, but for some reason, beyond the excuses specific to the act of procrastination, I’ve also censured myself slightly; and this is something that I need to get to the bottom of.
I’ve lastly been lazy with my life. Just one example: that 5K I had wanted to finish this year did not happen. I did run a 3K, but quickly became distracted by other concerns. It’s been more than a stressful year for me and even though the last few months have been easier to deal with from this perspective, I do feel the unavoidable consequences of continuous stress, the fatigue has built up and these two weeks of rest are a welcome disconnection. Why do I accuse myself of laziness then? Well, because I allowed myself to remain in that state of constant stress rather than focus on more important things like my physical and emotional health for far to long, just because it was comfortable and familiar. Designing a different path felt like too much effort in the state of exhaustion that I was back then. Now I know better. Now I already feel better.
Hopefully, I’ll be able to fight off complacency from now on. And it’s not because I think I’m necessarily a better person now, but because I’m aware of how much work I still have to do and because I’m grateful that I’ve been shielded from directly suffering physically and mentally at the level and depth that people close to me have and still are. Bottom line, I’ve been lucky as hell and I have no idea why I should be privileged and others not. But I’ll do my damnedest to at least get close to deserving it.