Old Habits (Luckily) Die Hard
I can’t remember the title, but I know there was a movie filmed over the course of, what?, a decade?
I think about this movie sometimes. I think about the time and planning and energy that went into that person’s art.
Then I think about the commitment.
Commitment from the writer, producers, director, and actors — a commitment to a project that no one could ensure it’s success, yet likely, nobody cared about that aspect.
It was about the craft, about telling a story — it was the commitment to the project itself, then once it was done, it was done. It’s out in the world and it is it’s own thing, no longer a part of you.
I think about this kind of commitment to your art at random.
(I think about this commitment to everything, really.)
I’ve been in a “funk” over the past couple months or so — ever since we started renovating our house our sell it.
There’s always some excuse as to why I haven’t come back and worked on my writing — we’re selling our house and moving to the complete opposite side of the country, I have one out of three kids with me at all times, I keep getting sick because of such and such reason (mainly getting glutened).
I’ve written a little. Just random Medium pieces that were likely written in one sitting and only worked on once a week (maybe).
But lately, I’ve had that itch and I’ve felt the need to write more.
So, in trying to keep the house cleaner by removing myself and youngest daughter from it daily, we’ve been going out to Starbucks in the morning — like old times, plus a kid.
We sit amongst the students and entrepreneurs and remote employees, and I feel like I’m a part of something bigger than myself.
With that feeling, the habit comes back, too.
When we had my youngest in child care a few months ago, I would work from Starbucks every day. I’d socialize for about thirty minutes — get myself into the mindset of writing workable dialogue and be a human being , I suppose — then I’d sit and write.
I wrote until I ran out of words (or until someone distracted me). Then I’d move onto emails and hopefully get a little more writing in before breaking for lunch.
Now, I have my youngest with me, so the laser-focus isn’t there anymore, but the old habit seems to resurface as soon as I sit down, surrounded by the hustle and bustle of people far busier than I.
And it got me thinking of the adage: “Old habits die hard”.
The cool thing about it is that “old habits” don’t have to be bad habits. We learn them all the same way — doing the same activity over and over again until it becomes second nature to us.
Old habits die hard.
I can live with that.
I can write with it.
I can grow with it.