Last week was the first week that I failed to write a post. I went from a published piece on Thursday to this new piece on Sunday, with nothing in between. Although I certainly have not been on this little blogging venture for long, I have been consistent. I’ve churned out a post every week since I started this thing back in April, and I must say that I feel a little dissappointed in myself for not having something ready to go last week. I’ve skipped a week, and while that little tiny blunder is going to cause my perfectionist brain to have an aneurysm (figuratively at least), I know that it’s okay.
I even have a good reason. More than one good reason to be precise. For one thing, it was a holiday week. I know, I know – that doesn’t make for an excuse, but it does make the week feel a little wonky. Where was it that I used that word lately? Wonky. I even looked it up – it’s British in origin, for those who are wondering. Now every time I hear it I am going to hear each syllable in a British accent. The other excuse I have for not posting last week is that my first summer class began. Summer classes this year are an odd combination of being the bane of my existence and my saving grace (for more on why I’m taking summer classes, see here), but that first class has made the last week of my life a little bit crazy. It was four days in a row for almost eight hours each day. My hours being consumed with leadership practices, creating a presentation, and working on group projects made focusing on this blog a little bit difficult.
I’m not sure why I’ve decided to turn this post into an excuse-fest. I think I’m trying to explain my actions to myself. You see, my greatest fear is disappointing myself. If I can wake up everyday and feel pleased with who I am and what I have accomplished, then I’ll be happy. It’s when I wake up in the morning dreading what I have to do that day, or having an unfinished task nagging at me in the back of my mind that I’m miserable. One of my New Years words (I decided to do words and ideas this year instead of resolutions) was consistency. I didn’t know that this word would eventually apply to my blog, but it has. Not writing a post last week felt like breaking a promise to myself.
Consistency is so important to a writer. Without it, fishing one voice from the sea of many is virtually impossible. As a writer, I believe that I need to be consistent in what I put out into the world. I need to make sure that what I say sounds like I would say it; that it holds true to my values and beliefs; and that it appears on the World Wide Web when I said it would. Granted, I’ve never promised anyone that I’d publish every week, but my brain likes to think that it counts as a separate individual. I promised myself.
Who knows why I’ve decided to get so personal for this post. Although I think I’ve often gotten pretty up close and personal with other posts, this one seems different. It’s showing the world the inner workings of my brain. Some of you will probably think that I’m a psycho control freak – and maybe I am. I’ve always been brutally hard on myself, especially when it comes to my personal creative endeavors, and this blog is very important to me. I don’t want to let it, or myself, down.
But I also need to lighten up. I get that. I’m going to publish this, and all will be well in the world. Even when I didn’t publish last week, the world kept turning, God was still good, the grass was still green, and I still had summer classes (which is just dreadful, really). I need to learn to be okay with whatever happens. Consistency is important, but so is my sanity.
I think that this is enough for today. Rambling on about blog posts and consistency won’t help anything, but publishing this will help my schedule get back on track. I’ll no longer wake up with that nagging in the back of my head to get something posted here, and my days will no longer seem wonky (you heard an accent there this time, right?)