I really can’t think of what to write about

There’s so much going on in the world right now. Not just my world but the entire world. Whether I focus on issues in Toronto, Ontario, Canada, North America, or globally, there is something happening that is worth thinking about and considering. The news is full of events that are exciting, pointless, nonsensical, and tragic. There is an endless stream of events filtering through.

I’m not going to write about any of them, though. It’s not because I don’t think there aren’t important things happening. The events in Christchurch, New Zealand, fired me up and inspired me. The shit that Trump and his administration continue to do, pisses me off. Ford’s government, here in Ontario, is creating a frenzy that simply doesn’t make sense. The Uber driver who drove down the middle of two lanes today tested all of my patience. All of it is worth writing about, but I’m not going to.

Right now, I’m just sitting down to write something. Anything, really. I feel like it’s been too long since I’ve sat down at my computer and put together a blog post.

I want to write more. I’ve been wanting to write more for as long as I’ve been writing. When I think about why I don’t write as often as I would like, it always seems to circle back to the fact that I don’t have a focus. This blog, for what it is, is hardly focussed. There isn’t a central theme, outside of it being about things that happen in my daily.

Over the March Break, I played with LEGO. For six of the nine days, I put together a different LEGO set. One day I was building a printer with an EV3, the next I was putting together a fork lift, and then I was building a fire rescue team responding to a building on fire.

Did I enjoy it? Immensely. It took me out of my normal world for a bit. Each night, for several hours – topping six – I would sit at a table and follow the instructions for putting pieces of hard plastic together.

Did I clean my apartment? A bit. Did I read a book? Nope. Did I do any work? Fuck no.

It is starting to feel like I’ve been adulting hard for the last little bit. There is always something more to do. Whether it’s paying a bill or maintaining a healthy and loving relationship, there’s something to do. It doesn’t ever stop. Ever.

The painting I was working on in December still isn’t finished. Displaying it prominently on an easel isn’t helping motivate me. It’s simply become part of the decor.

In a sense, I think that I’m responding to the world by being selective about what I let in and what I spend my time on. Naps take priority. But, there’s a lot more competing for my time and attention. Even playing with Riel has become something I have to remind myself to do.

I’m really not going anywhere with this.

My girlfriend came over today and helped me figure out how to organize all of my LEGO pieces. When she left, I started taking things apart. It’s a small problem, but it’s about as much as I can handle.

I want to start spending more time thinking about things. Then, too, I want to write more. I want to practice a craft that I enjoy. I want to become serious about this. I want to make the time to do the things that are important to me. I just need some time to think about it all.

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