June, July, August, September and October were five runners on a sprint whose approach and departure flashed simultaneously. November quickly followed before I recognized the five had just been within sight. At the start, only June and July were bound to be mentioned in the above sentences but time dragged on such that with each monthly effort to finish this entry off (and free myself from scientific writing), a new runner is supplemented to the list. My intention was to illustrate how I struggle to succeed at writing amidst the previous semester, but the timestamp obviously tells otherwise. I write now to tell you of this struggle and what makes it one, in lieu of my failure to illustrate it.
Let it be known that every time I write, I trip over one of these four ruts:
1. My thought is rarely monogamous and it is never silenced save when I am asleep. It shuffles through the extant tabs in my head like a typical ladies’ man who experiences dissatisfaction from sticking around with a single partner for long. And it certainly doesn’t help to have pairs of eyes and hands which constantly demand that I find something to occupy their attention. In between my trouble to focus, I get to fiddle with the wash bottle on my table, repeatedly insert the key into my drawer’s keylock, and visit the bathroom and unwind with the current roll of tissue in the dispenser.
How I rise up: Buddha is my ever-dependable henchman. I get on my meditation stance and follow every thing written on this article. After a good 2 minutes, I immediately start relishing the whole duration I pounce on the keyboard. No kidding.
2. The portion of my brain involved in processing language regularly experiences bouts of verbal constipation. (My gratitude goes out to Sedric for his accurate diagnosis. He’s definitely on his way towards becoming a great doctor.) I usually have a general idea of how my sentences will explain themselves. The difficulty comes up when I plod though my limited database of words and pick ones which, upon subjection to the loooong process of putting them into order, will satisfy the expression I pictured in mind.
How I rise up: I literally rise up from my seat and descend the stairs to consume a bottle of Yakult or depending on its availability, several spoonfuls of powdered milk. I have this notion that the ounce of sugar contained in either will instantly supply my brain with ample ATP.
3. I am rarely in the mood to finish my sentences.
How I rise up: I hold off any attempt to write, and only set my brain in motion as early as when everyone in the house and most of the people in my messenger are asleep. The perfect ambiance is completed when the sole source of light left in my room is the laptop screen I am facing right now.
4. Any combination of (1), (2) and (3) since they almost always come as a package.
How I rise up: I don’t. I can only solve one problem at a time so I’d like you to consider the invaluableness of each instance I that I write here or successfully submit a paper.
I am completely aware that my writing rituals are placebos.