I’m blogging. My first blog! Blimey, this is all so sudden. Where do I begin?
Well I can report that so far it’s just like riding a bicycle but with less emphasis on balance and coordination, and more capacity to eat biscuits during the execution. So thumbs up there! Also I haven’t yet run my blog up a tree the way I did, at the age of 9, with my first bike. This is probably because the blog doesn’t have backwards-peddling brakes which, in my excitement to be actually riding for the first time, I completely forgot how to operate, so I peddled forward instead, frantically, thus ensuring I hit the tree at full throttle. In fact, my front wheel climbed the trunk, and under other circumstances, my ‘wheelie pop of death’ would have been considered well cool by anyone who was around to watch. But instead I ended up sprawled on the driveway, in tears and alone, and so angry with my demon bicycle I kicked it, american comedy sitcom-style. And then I refused to ride it for three months afterwards.
So as you can see, I cope well with setbacks.
I think the conclusion I’m trying to draw here is that, despite using it as an opener, similarities between my first bike and my first blog are, indeed, minimal. (And like I said, there’s the biscuit thing.) For me, this blog is about discipline. But not like domestic chore discipline, or dentist appointment discipline. More Life-with-Purpose discipline. You know, the good kind.
I love to write, but I’m not so hot on the actual sit-your-ass-down-and-do-it bit. I know I’m not alone in this, which I take comfort in (blessed are the lazy, for they shall inherit the earth – but not give a f*ck!) Still, it doesn’t make a difference to the fact that I have of late, but wherefore I know not, lost my capacity to be arsed. And not just about writing, about most things really. It’s a bit sad, and a lot frustrating. And who can I blame? My first bike? The Olympic Ticketing Committee? The endless hairstylings of Mr Johnny Depp? No. I’m on the slow train to Apathysville and it’s a really, really dull ride; there’s no catering trolley or anything.
People, I’m not staying on a train with no catering.
So, long bloggy short, I’m disembarking the train, popping on my most blinging shades, lifting the first Vespa I see (mimicking an Eddie Izzard ciao for good measure) and heading down the metaphoric highway, in the hopes that I’ll get back to the land of the living, or at least, the land where I’m motivated to create and share stuff. That way if I do happen to inherit the earth (or some portion thereof), I’ll be ready.