It's been just about a month since I've been here. I feel like I've done nothing. First two weeks was people visiting and then I launched into some writing that had to be done. I had a deadline yesterday and I hit it, sort of, but rewrites have to begin again. I was lamenting today with Jennifer about how we really haven't done anything since being in New York. She's been on a project that has taken a lot of time to put together and then two weekends in Syracuse to install and show.
We were talking about how the pressure of a deadline really just makes life and creation unbearable. The constant "how fast can I work" calculations balanced with "how good will this be" fears. I really don't like that aspect of it at all. I just want it to end. The reward is a sense of accomplishment -- however fleeting -- but I don't really care about that. I'm pretty good with not accomplishing I think.
I thought the joy was supposed to be in the work, the time spent doing it. But instead I just tend to avoid it whenever possible. Until it's unavoidable.
Things I have stepped out to do: Brooklyn Book Fair for a few hours, a wonderful outdoor dance party to stalk a DJ I'm in love with (the kind of true love where you just stand twenty feet away and stare), a Saturday conference for book bloggers.
Those are the only times I've left the house in about two weeks. Have I been more productive? Not particularly. What I've done instead is just sit in front of the computer trying to get words out, even while I completely let everything online fall apart. Is this how regular people feel? When they just keep falling behind and there's no time to do things?
Every day I look out the window and see the incoming weather change and lament that I can't even get away with wearing menpris soon. I don't even have an iPhone 5 in my hand, as I've been waiting to reward myself for a job well done on this book. Since the book is not done, no reward. Sigh.
Wait, what am I even complaining about? Geezes. Snap out of it man! I hope to return to regularly scheduled programming in two weeks, when everyone arrives for weddings. In fact, it has to be, because if this project doesn't get done by then, I'll have no time to play. It's October but I'm already staring at November.
For our first roommate activity, Mary and I went to do laundry yesterday afternoon. Since moving in, we haven't walked to a subway together, seen each other outside of the apartment, or eaten a single meal that involved sitting down. She's out, I'm in, or vice versa. It's working out well. Except our grand plans to explore and attend things is clearly not happening. Perhaps next month. When she's in the Yucatan.
Basically we are time sharing an apartment, with occasional check-ins if our paths cross.
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