I’m off schedule.
This might already be obvious to anyone who’s been paying attention to when posts usually appear here, with the traditional Monday-Wednesday-Friday rhythm disrupted for the past few weeks; I’m not even getting around to writing this until Saturday morning, after all, which is a sign for quite how bad things have gotten.
Of course, “bad” is an over-dramatic way of looking at it — it’s not as if some great disaster has befallen me to make me slip out of the schedule I’ve been keeping up all this time. Nothing has gone wrong, per se; it’s simply that life has taken a turn.
I suspect that my irregular working schedule plays no small part in throwing me off. Back when I was doing roughly the same thing week in and week out, I could roughly predict what every day of the week looked like: what I’d be up to on Monday, Tuesday, and so on. It was that environment in which I started doing this blog again in earnest, during the divorce, to ground and rediscover myself in something just for me. The schedule made sense, then, because I could already imagine the spaces I’d carve out to write the posts in.
These days, everything is far less steady. Yesterday was working on one freelance post for Outlet A, proofing and corresponding on another for Outlet B, being a second set of eyes for Chloe on something she was working on, and having a strange, surreal conversation that I suspect closed down a work opportunity for Outlet C. My focus was scattered (more so when you factor in the multiple animals to look after during the day), and I didn’t even remember this blog until late afternoon, when I didn’t have anymore words in me.
Consider this an apology, then, for the slip — but also an internal acknowledgment that things are more complicated and less certain, but that writing here remains something important for me, nonetheless. I’m still discovering myself here, even now.