Commitment

I have committed myself to writing every day something or other. The why behind this commitment I’m not too sure about, and to be honest I’m a bit dubious about the strength of the commitment also.  I can’t even actually remember making any commitment. Maybe it just arose in the act here of writing about it and I’m just going along with it for the sake of ... emm ... art.

But what if even if I fulfil the commitment and do write away every day something or other but what gets written isn’t worth writing? Any fool can string some words together, but that doesn’t mean they’re worth stringing. Even that just there ... worth stringing ... it’s awful. But at least you might say I know it’s awful. And I could of course go back an erase it, replace it with something a little more elegant, but I think I’ll leave it there instead for the sake of integrity. What kind of integrity would that be? Who knows. Maybe it’s really just laziness.

Anyway am I really supposed to place those kind of words there - stringing and so on - as if on top of a hill, like a standard, and stand back proudly? Look at me there. I even look like I’m expecting something. Praise no doubt, and maybe even something tangible to go with the praise. I wonder is it the writing or the commitment I’m so pleased about. Probably both. 

So this will do for now. I have fulfilled my word. I wouldn’t exactly be full of expectations regarding future actions regarding all this but I can hardly be held accountable for that. I only inhabit the present after all. Pledges about future virtues are always a bit dubious.