What to do...

Boredom, boredom, boredom.... it's amazing how time just passes. I had my morning long run, from 7:45am till just after 11. Long, and slow. Took everything and then, laundry, shower, food. Intending to sit down and get some quality writing done, but I zonked out. Sleep took over. A huge, dense, cloudy sleep. The kind of sleep that rises from your belly suddenly knocking you out. Nausea hits, you feel like vomiting if you don't lie down and close your eyes. Might have been the popcorn that I ate. I really should have had something more nutritious, but it was popcorn and a Dr. Pepper. That's quality rejuvenation food for you right there.

And that was earlier on, it's now close to 6pm and I haven't done a thing today. Not a jot. Not a single word penned down. I don't feel too bad about it though, I feel like something will come out of today. I'd hate to lose my entire Saturday to just running. Running's great, but there's more to life.

It seems like most long run days are like this. I manage to do the stuff that's scheduled, like laundry. That has to be done or there'll be no clean clothes for the week, or a basket full of dirty clothes going into the week. But the unscheduled, the stuff that can wait, well, it just waits. Like writing. I should do a bit of it every day, but since it can wait, it waits. Sometimes for days. And days, and days.

And I watch a TV show while I'm recuperating, recovering from the long run, or at least that's how I like to think about it. And a movie will kill two hours easily. Before you know it, the afternoon's completely gone. And if the afternoon's gone, you can kiss the evening goodbye. And that's because tomorrow, Sunday, we're scheduled for another 32k run. And that run will kill the morning, which will kill the afternoon, and the evening will be shot too. And so the weekend will be gone and we'll cruise into the week having accomplished nothing all weekend. And when people in the office ask, how was your weekend, you can say, it was excellent, I did some running and stuff.

I have an idea, a thought, some notes on finding your voice. It's a writing topic that's supposed to help writers remove the fear of the empty page. But it's not the empty page that's scary, it's how to write with your own voice. Not John Grisham's voice, not Stephen King's voice, but yours. What's your voice? What does it sound like. I enjoy reading Simon Singh. He's got a way of explaining science that I enjoy. I also enjoy reading Dan Brown. He weaves a story very well. So does Michael Connelly and Jeffery Deaver. I envy their style. They seem to have an easy way with words. They seem to be able to take complex subjects and explain them with such ease. Like Simon Singh's The Code Book. About mathematics and encryption. Who would have thought?

Finding your voice is like talking to yourself. Explaining things to yourself. Not imagining the crowd, the audience, but talking inside your head to yourself and telling yourself stuff.

I'm writing now so I'd best get back to my real work.