I’ve been struggling to write recently. I feel like most of my writing these days happens in the form of fragments jotted down in my journal: random thoughts, self-affirmation, or a list of some sort.
I recently watched an astrology reading for Geminis, and they mentioned the year cycle doesn’t entirely end until March, which is Aries season (that’s the first fire sign in the zodiac year for all you non-astrology freaks), so that’s what I’m blaming all of this on. Maybe I am still waiting for 2021 to fully end, and Aries season will finally light a fire under my feet.
I’ve been reading a lot recently, which I hope to continue doing throughout the year. Over the past few weeks, I’ve read Too Much and Not the Mood by Durga Chew-Bose, Writers & Lovers by Lily King, Second Place by Rachel Cusk, and now I’m reading Pure Colour by Sheila Heti and Funny Weather by Olivia Laing.
I trained myself to speed read when I was little because I physically couldn’t sit still with a book. It was literally as if I had a bug in my butt. Others saw this as a good skill, but truthfully, it was challenging to digest every word. I wasn’t fond of books then. I was just eager to know what happened next in the story. Sometimes I’d even take matters into my own hands and skip through words, even pages. I rushed instead of reading the story the way the writer intended. I felt awful about it eventually. I liked books, but I didn’t love them the way other people did — and now I wanted to understand what others meant when they said they loved books.
I forced myself to read slowly. It was painful to resist the urge to skip through words and pages. I felt it physically and mentally: the tenseness in the back of my legs, arms, behind my mouth, my gums. All while my mind was dying to move as quick as lightning. I don’t know about you, but to me, the feeling of resistance — especially when resisting to do something I’ve always done — is brutal. It makes me want to scream.
It took a few years to get the hang of reading slowly. I remember one year when it took me four months to finish a book. It was the only book I read that year. But that also didn’t stop me from buying more books. I’ve always enjoyed going to bookstores. I like how they look and smell, especially old bookstores filled with stacks of secondhand books. Something about the organized chaos spoke to me.
As soon as I got the hang of reading slowly, I fell in love with books. Not just in the way stories made me feel but in the craft of writing, too. Reading a book is a commitment, and I admire every writer’s ability to engross you in their work.
Music has been my main source of inspiration lately. After working on a large painting for the past couple of weeks, I felt like I’d extracted every single ounce of creative juice I had in me. I hate the feeling of being creatively exhausted or uninspired, so listening to music with intention rather than just background filler has been nice.
I’m always curious about how musicians came up in their careers, work on their songs and the other artists they take inspiration from. I really like listening to Dissect by Spotify Studios for this. I’m sure some of you are already familiar with the podcast, but in case you haven’t heard of it, it’s literally just a podcast that dissects songs.
Anyway. Since I haven’t shared anything in a while, here is a three-hour playlist with songs from musicians like David Bowie, Lauryn Hill, and Otis Redding. I hope it gets you inspired.