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Anticipating activity
Mar. 31st, 2025 02:00 pm
I've tried, and failed, in the past to use structured planners, so I tend to do a kind of bullet journal system. Today, I started laying out my April pages.
And oh boy, it's going to be a month.
Last week, I feel like I was caught up in a flurry of activity. I was posting to this journal most days during my lunch break (as I'm doing right now), and I was really active at work (somewhat goofing off a little in Slack, but I can't help that Slack makes me, you know, slack sometimes), and I was keeping on top of my daily to-do lists. This past month of March has, thankfully, been a relatively quiet one for me. Aside from the ambient dread that characterizes most days living in the U.S. right now, I didn't have to do much of anything out of the norm.
Not so for April. Starting next weekend, I'm traveling out of town for various events and conferences. While I'm certain I can stay on top of the work I need to do, I am already anticipating April to be a month where some plates stop spinning, and I have to work really hard to get through all the things.
On another note, I finished reading through Dear Senthuran over the weekend, and wow, if I wasn't a big fan of Akwaeke Emezi before, I'm certified 100% a fan now.
I wrote earlier about how some of the earlier letters elicited a kind of visceral reaction in me, especially when the subject matter bordered on medical procedures that are adjacent to my own wants. I feel like the latter half of the book was just letter-for-letter uncannily evocative. In one "Desire | Dear Eugene" Emezi vividly describes a daydream of wanting a friend who may not want you in the same way. And, if I'm honest, I've been feeling that this past week: embarrassingly pining over a kind acquaintance to the point of losing a bit of time each day to just daydreaming what ifs. Granted, I think a lot of people feel this way, at least occasionally — vividly imagining encounters that spiral out into entire scenes in ways that idealize someone you barely even know — but reading that letter just happened to hit me at the right time.
When I finished reading the book, I then started trying to write. It's been a while, but I felt really buzzed, and I wanted to try and see how much I could do with all the feelings I was feeling. I can't say it was my best writing, but damn, it felt good.
And oh boy, it's going to be a month.
Last week, I feel like I was caught up in a flurry of activity. I was posting to this journal most days during my lunch break (as I'm doing right now), and I was really active at work (somewhat goofing off a little in Slack, but I can't help that Slack makes me, you know, slack sometimes), and I was keeping on top of my daily to-do lists. This past month of March has, thankfully, been a relatively quiet one for me. Aside from the ambient dread that characterizes most days living in the U.S. right now, I didn't have to do much of anything out of the norm.
Not so for April. Starting next weekend, I'm traveling out of town for various events and conferences. While I'm certain I can stay on top of the work I need to do, I am already anticipating April to be a month where some plates stop spinning, and I have to work really hard to get through all the things.
On another note, I finished reading through Dear Senthuran over the weekend, and wow, if I wasn't a big fan of Akwaeke Emezi before, I'm certified 100% a fan now.
I wrote earlier about how some of the earlier letters elicited a kind of visceral reaction in me, especially when the subject matter bordered on medical procedures that are adjacent to my own wants. I feel like the latter half of the book was just letter-for-letter uncannily evocative. In one "Desire | Dear Eugene" Emezi vividly describes a daydream of wanting a friend who may not want you in the same way. And, if I'm honest, I've been feeling that this past week: embarrassingly pining over a kind acquaintance to the point of losing a bit of time each day to just daydreaming what ifs. Granted, I think a lot of people feel this way, at least occasionally — vividly imagining encounters that spiral out into entire scenes in ways that idealize someone you barely even know — but reading that letter just happened to hit me at the right time.
When I finished reading the book, I then started trying to write. It's been a while, but I felt really buzzed, and I wanted to try and see how much I could do with all the feelings I was feeling. I can't say it was my best writing, but damn, it felt good.