“He looked…found her only in the image that saturated his private and terrible solitude. He would spend whole hours…listening to the music…” – Gabriel García Márquez, ‘100 Years of Solitude’
It feels disingenuous to say I don’t like working out. I don’t like the gym—I have a stationery bike and some weights and do things like play basketball or box or kayak. Still, it takes some mental pep-talking, building up. This is not revelatory information, but it’s hard to think about how good you feel post-workout while wearily putting gym shorts on. Subscribe to learn more things you already knew.
My every-so-often check in on my Submittable page did not lead to me tweeting/beskying “ooooh got some news but I can’t talk about it yet!” (any writer’s third favorite tweet, behind “happy pub day to me” and “not to wade into The Discourse but…”), and I got a little down about it. A journal about lakes rejected my Lake Michigan poem. Other journals rejected other stuff. The good news is, I’m dealing with this better than I have in the past—plan on submitting to other journals later day, instead of not writing for the next six months. Rejection is part of the writing life, and my mental health is better now, so we pick ourselves up and move on.
One of the (many) jobs I have (and one of the few that pays me) is writing guides for Nande, a Chicago-based guidebook app. It’s a really fun gig, one where I get to do writeups of restaurants and cool neighborhood spots and celebrate Chicago—a thing I’m fond of doing, eagle-eyed readers will note. Part of the guides include interviewing business owners/employees, which is like a doctor’s mallet to the knee for my social anxiety. The dour Protestant in me doesn’t allow for front-of-the-mirror pep talks, but I am definitely listening to ‘get hype’ music before each interview. This applies to guest spots on The Line Break, it should go without saying.
Afterwards? I feel better than great. I feel connected to people, I feel shared humanity, I feel like I’m using my writing to honor others, I feel close to my purpose in life.
If I’m being honest, posting here twice a week can be taxing. It’s not like I don’t like blogging, and it’s not like anyone’s making me do this. But I made an internal commitment to consistency. I think it’s important, if you’re asking someone to give a shit about something they did not ask for and do not need, to at least give a shit about their time in return. I also remember working my old warehouse job or [REDACTED] copywriting job and how much I looked forward to certain podcasts that would release on certain days. Or even way back, when I worked my worst job (university Parking Office, not as a student) Cracked was running weekly columnists, and I’d be like, “oh rad, it’s Day or David Bell Day or whomever.” And the day would be better.
All of this is to reflect, not complain. I like the stuff I do, all of the stuff listed above, love it even. What really gets me is thinking about what or who I would be if I didn’t do those things. The x – y = z of it all is pretty easy. But sit and think with it a minute: who or what would you even be if everything was seamless all the time? Is it even worth it, living that way?
Sorry you got an email,
Chris