I know I should resist, but I can’t. The urge to try something new, blogging in this instance, is irresistible. Never mind all the other pursuits I could be putting time into. Actually, it would be more honest to admit that those other pursuits are the precise reason the new and unexplored looks so tantalizing. Whenever I am writing a story, it hardly seems that I get the first five pages down before a new, brilliant idea gallops across my mind: you should write about a girl trying to save her mother from cancer! Or, you should go research the world’s oldest trees! Or, you should go start a blog! My writing time isn’t the only victim of my fickle mind. There are countless things I’ve begun, like my quest to become a gymnast or read every book in my house, that are simply ridiculous. Others, like become flexible enough to do the splits or read every book on one shelf, might be attainable if I tried for more than a week, and if a week weren’t such amble time for a new inclination to strike. By now, after being slapped by so many of those impulses, shouldn’t I have developed at least a sliver of immunity to them? I am constantly telling myself that I have to learn discipline and stamina and develop the willpower to resist all the sparkly things the world dangles before my eyes if I ever want to get anything done.
Resisting is so difficult, but isn’t that what makes something worthwhile? I won’t give up. I’m going to focus from now on. I’m going to work hard to achieve my goals. And at the end of the day, I’m going to give myself a half hour to chase the wildest pursuit that catches my fancy, just to see where I end up.
