I think I’m getting used to the dark mornings. Of course, this is just as winter is beginning to move into spring.
I can’t really explain it, but there’s something tranquil about the early mornings and the dark still there. Wake up at 5:00 a.m. and it’s still dark. There’s no traffic, noise seems to carry further, you can hear things much more clearly, and there seems to be a sort of peace.
It might have to do with the fact it’s also gotten warmer. After a few weeks of -30 to -20 mornings, the temperature now sits around -10 to -5 in the morning. Which is a good thing.
Eventually, mornings will become lighter again, and I’ll greet that more readily than when summer gives way to fall and fall gives way to winter. Even with the sun rising at 5:00 in the morning, there’s still a peace and tranquility to be had.
On weekends I’ll usually stay up later. On weekdays I get up earlier.
Often, I’ll go out onto my balcony with a coffee and a cigarette, and I can’t help but see all the things around me. Like the building across the street. It’s a set of condos, and often you can gauge when people go to bed and when people get up.
But there’s one neighbour who has a really big television. I could pretty much watch it from my balcony if I desired. Which I don’t because there’s no sound. But I noticed lately, my neighbour’s television is on later and on earlier than usual.
It’s the Olympics. You can tell because you know the way footage for play by play hockey goes, or curling, or figure skating. But my neighbour really seems to like the Olympics.
Like NaNoWriMo, February Writer’s Challenge turned into a very big bust.
I’ve had no motivation to write what I want. I’ve doodled writing, jotting down little bits of things here and there. Never posting anything, because it all feels like crap.
I’ve read over things I’ve written, I’ve become listless when I want to write. I’m not at a very good place creatively, and this bothers me. I suppose it might pass, but I’ve been waiting for it to pass for several months while I write poetry and small stories.
Maybe that’s what I’ll just have to do, to keep some form of creativity flowing. Poetry and short stories.
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