Write on Schedule

Of course, there had to be a pun.

Once again, silence has been the order of the day round here; the signs of decay apparent on the dashboard: a drop in views, no comments to be moderated and a small number of half finished drafts, the unsatisfactory nature of both content and tone mean there can only be one fate...doomed to remain unpublished, a constant reminder of bad blogging.
 
In my last post, I dimly remember mentioning something about reading about weekly posting schedules, and how I didn't subscribe to them.  Well I've changed my mind.

There are already several tonal changes apparent delving through the archives: the first period that was excitable and helped me deal with the depression of my surroundings; the second period that was characterised mainly by referring to people around me with self-imposed titles - and in fact I still call people by those names: The Chief and of course The Loser whom I love, Grasshopper, The Admiral, The Waltzer, The Philanderer, Sensei... The list goes on; a third where I began to allow circumstances to take control and spoke candidly about how bad I felt, and the most recent and arguably most depressing, where I notably diagnosed myself with insanity for doing the same thing over and again and expecting different results.  I'll call that the "Peb is sad" part of my œuvre.


It's time to move on now though.  That's where the time table idea comes in.  I live in an environment I'd casually describe as insane, one of almost constant social movement.  Recently things have almost reached a "them-and-us" situation, but things have improved.  Social and domestic boundaries are in a state of constant flux, and to comment on affairs one week is to represent a false state by the next.
 

So.  Every weekend there'll be a post drop.  It'll probably come on a Saturday night, realistically.  (Edit: there's more of a ten day feel to it, I usually get round to writing, proofing and posting on a Sunday night/Monday morning.)  Interestingly, I do enough things a week rather than sit around being depressed all the time to merit not having it as the sole subject of my prose.  The first one starts this week, I've certainly done enough already and I'm even going for dinner tomorrow night as well.  Who knows, I might even learn how to draft effectively (haha as if I mean come on you guys seriously).
 
I do still claim to be a writer after all, but my lack of practice means it doesn't stand up to any scrutiny.  I'm no poet laureate, but I can still knock a decent haiku every now and again.  It's going to be so easy to not bother, just like well, everything that doesn't have an instant and tangible reward.

But then again, a lot of my life is on the long haul.