Looking through the archives of this blog, I have recently realized that 2010 was my least productive year on the blog. This isn't because I was suddenly the busiest I have ever been, although this is the busiest I have ever been in my life. I work a full time job, I live alone, so I cook, I clean, I buy groceries, I pay bills, I do laundry and I wash my own vessels. I also work 2 separate part time jobs from home. I have a few friends who I am close with in this city, so I usually make at least one outing per weekend. I have taken on extra work in order to save up for an enormously expensive trip that my best friend, Gooseberrie and I are planning to take. And of course there are all the phone calls home to my mum, my brother, all of the grandparents, with at least one set of aunt + uncle thrown in each week. Honestly, I have no time for absolutely anything else in my life right now. And yet, this is not the reason I write only sparingly on my blog of late.
The reason is that I think I've started to burn out. Even just writing this blog post, I have no literary eloquence in me, no playful re-arrangement of the English language, no whimsy. Just plain boring text, words arranged in the same patterns as they have been for years. I write hundreds of pages of content every month. All of my jobs, full time and part time, are essentially writing jobs. I research, I analyze, and then I articulate or opine. That's the basic definition of all my work. At the end of all that, there seems to be no creative juice left in me to come onto my blog and rant.
A close friend called recently to bemoan the lack of activity on the blog, and more importantly to her, the lack of angry, inspired ranting, my supposed trademark. Looking back, that seems to be true. The only heartfelt, unfiltered blog post I have written recently was You, and that was born of a deep sorrow and pain. I don't want to have to feel that in order write well, or uninhibitedly.
The latter factor has also begun to worry me. As my jobs require me to be an educated analyst, I have stopped writing freestyle. Everything is constructed, planned, structured to deliver the point with supporting evidence. There's no room for bursts of inspiration and wit. I am now mentally exhausted even at the thought of writing.
So, here's the thing, I'm worried. And tired. And worried. And most of all, I'm burning out, fast.
The reason is that I think I've started to burn out. Even just writing this blog post, I have no literary eloquence in me, no playful re-arrangement of the English language, no whimsy. Just plain boring text, words arranged in the same patterns as they have been for years. I write hundreds of pages of content every month. All of my jobs, full time and part time, are essentially writing jobs. I research, I analyze, and then I articulate or opine. That's the basic definition of all my work. At the end of all that, there seems to be no creative juice left in me to come onto my blog and rant.
A close friend called recently to bemoan the lack of activity on the blog, and more importantly to her, the lack of angry, inspired ranting, my supposed trademark. Looking back, that seems to be true. The only heartfelt, unfiltered blog post I have written recently was You, and that was born of a deep sorrow and pain. I don't want to have to feel that in order write well, or uninhibitedly.
The latter factor has also begun to worry me. As my jobs require me to be an educated analyst, I have stopped writing freestyle. Everything is constructed, planned, structured to deliver the point with supporting evidence. There's no room for bursts of inspiration and wit. I am now mentally exhausted even at the thought of writing.
So, here's the thing, I'm worried. And tired. And worried. And most of all, I'm burning out, fast.
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