Experiment #3: 750 Words (Days 6-16)

Yeesh. It's hard to believe that I haven't updated this blog in ten days. So much for good intentions. No, not really. I'm lying. Actually, it's a pretty easy thing to believe, given my previous track record. Despite my lack of updates here, I have been doing a lot more writing, thanks to 750 words. I have missed four days since I began, two of which were the result of my treating any hour past midnight as part of the previous day. Hey, it doesn't count unless I go to sleep, alright! That means that sometimes, my day ends at 4:30 AM, and the next day begins at 2 PM. See, it would be easy to pass this off as another excuse, but in truth, it's another statistic to consider. What does this one tell me? Well, for starters, I probably need to work on a more consistent schedule. My current work situation makes this difficult, even on the best days, but hey...I'm working now...so there is that. Then, there were the two days that I spent curled up in a ball, under a pile of blankets, nursing some kind of mini-flu. In fact, I avoided pretty much everything that didn't look like a bed, those days. I didn't really want to deal with being sick or, you know, alive. I certainly didn't want to write about it.

That's the point. The statistics available through 750 words serve as both blessings and curses. They make opportunities for awareness about bad habits, self-editing, and negativity as well as all of the fluffy-kitten moments that life has to offer. There is something you should know about me--especially because it will likely come into play during next month's experiment. I HATE complaining. In the context of this experiment on journaling, I feel a certain twinge every time I have the urge to vent. I tend to resist the urge, and instead of relying on emotion, I gravitate toward analysis, or I avoid complaining altogether. In fact, I had to force myself to write the first paragraph of this post.

The truth is that it doesn't really matter what I write in my personal journal, as long as I manage to hit my word count each day. I could type "exquisite corpses," copy the works of Edgar Allan Poe, or write the great American novel...or I could write about the minutia of everyday life, and I would still manage to expose myself in doing so. Sometimes, I stumble on great ideas, and sometimes, I get stuck on small annoyances. Whether the words end up on the screen or in my head, the act of writing forces me to pay more attention. ...and with no one to impress, seduce, or convince but myself, paying more attention can be difficult.

Getting past the discomfort of heightened awareness is the key to progress. Journaling provides a way to express grand ideas and recount important memories, of course, but it also serves as a receptacle for the word-vomit that invades everyday conversation. The whining, the complaints, the irrational fears, the egoism, the finger-pointing, and all of the other self-indulgent crap has a place to go: on the page. When I stop censoring myself there, I have the opportunity to use those things to aid personal growth instead of avoiding it.

Obviously, my stats for the last ten days have been more negative, but I am interested to see how things play out, by the end of the month. So far, my overall mindset reads as "Introvert/Negative/Certain/Feeling." See below for the pretty version:

Statistics: Day 16

...and compare those to Day 1