I am establishing a new habit: journaling and free-flowing writing but privately. I feel very distant from the urge of publishing my thoughts. Weird. That’s the reason why I started this idea of publishing daily for a year. But I am struggling. All of my behaviors hint at me not wanting to do that. I am creating any possible situation and excuses not to post. In the last few weeks I’ve been writing my daily blog post with the same mood of checking my bank account balance before paying taxes. It’s profoundly unsettling. Still, I am managing to do it, every day. I am missing 60 days. And I see this time as what separates me from a new phase of my creative life. But which one? What is going to happen after the 15 of November 2021? It became stupid, shallow and childish, I won’t find much value from these rushed posts. And, maybe, that’s the lesson I was looking for.

Well, sick of this parade, I’m carving back my space for private writing. It’s a different need in a different context. I have nothing to demonstrate to anybody. I can go with the flow, careless of hurting somebody, especially the spell-checker (fuck it!). I have different goals. Or better, I am still looking for the same thing: continuity. But a different kind of it. While here, on the blog, I am striving for keeping the daily streak, rather indifferent to the quality, the outcome, the feedback, again, just to check the boxes, when I write in my journal I can really hear my voice. I can be in a safe space with my thoughts. It’s there, now, that I want to grow a thinking practice. Rather than always vomiting spontaneous and seldomly related thoughts, I want to  extract threads and build upon them. That gives me more sense of purpose and meaning. It’s going to require time, and hard work and I am not sure it might directly impact my public articles soon but I feel more compelled by that kind of creative practice right now.

Until my next flow of conscience.