WEEK TWO.

14th post, eh. I wish I could say it’s more than I’d ever consistently done in the past so Regret Everything is now past the “danger zone”, but no, as a professional quitter of everything, this is not the longest I had lasted. For sure I will need to continue sticking to the four-week test-out to see if am still the same loser or, indeed, a reformed one.

But there have been improvements, for sure. Although coming up with 5 topics a week is proving to be the challenge I initially thought it might be (I am always so worried about this), the week’s blogging structure may be falling into place. Tuesdays could be related to my daughter Sofia and the impossible challenges of raising a human who is a feminist, open-minded, inclusive, more or less gender-fluid (everyone I know and the society at large are fighting me hard on this one) and, for f-ck’s sake, driven to achieve (guess we can wave this one bye-bye). Wednesdays are shaping up to be the weekly reports of my progress, or, please no, lack of thereof – we mostly get to hear the stories of triumphs and failures by either contemporaries or people of the past that we traditionally perceive as “successful” AFTER they had “won” our interest by way of their impressive achievements. I guess mine will be a live struggle?

Fridays, as explained here, should be light and breezy – a music video here, a movie trailer there – for when it comes to school and extracurriculars, Fridays are a proper b-tch. This leaves Mondays and Thursdays to ponder over – something pop-culture related and "actual" culture related? Social issues? Feminism (yes!)? I will need to come back with this one.

What I have found though, is that the more I write, because I write every day like a good girl, the more I’m bursting with thoughts and ready-to-go sentences. The desire to type out what comes sporadically into my previously unoccupied head feels physical. It’s overpowering and sometimes annoying, like when I’m on the bus and just want to see out the window and pretend to meditate. I can write a roll-out of posts in bulk, depending on the coming days’ schedule, and all that volume of words and paragraphs never ever feels right and I constantly want to f-ck and fidget with it but don’t have the time, which crushes me, because every post, I know, can easily be a better one. Except for this one, bloody nailed this one.

My part of life that’s unattached to the keyboard, is basically an infuriating mass of some seriously genius ideas which I mourn on the spot because they almost always evaporate. When I go to bed, I have to think about Call Me By Your Name so I turn off the feels for words, words, words and focus on the shipping of Oliver and Elio.

Speaking of distractions, am I, in the second week, still as easily interrupted by the mundanity? F-ck yes, I have just clipped my cats’ claws again instead of writing this post in one go.