like riding a bicycle
like riding a bicycle
but ok really how do you brake
Sitting in self-imposed isolation for most of my days, with an exception for an occasional social interlude, has me in a state of self-reflection. Most mornings, I sit in bed, journal propped up in my lap while I munch on Kaya Toast and lap up a hojicha latte from my favourite neighbourhood coffee shop. Building a routine when you can’t really work isn’t always an easy task— but it’s been helpful for me to work my way through it. Journalling was my fastest route to starting the process. Somewhere in the past month, I began writing for fun, for the hell of it. And in the next week, it’ll be the first time I’ve sat in a workshop for one of my pieces in over a decade. People say something akin to “it must be like learning how to ride a bike!” But I don’t know what that means because I never learned.
The idiom goes, “…as easy as riding a bike!” or something to that effect. People say that because they assume that everyone knows how to ride a bicycle. Or perhaps it’s the common knowledge of never fully forgetting how to do something you toiled over to learn. centring my routine around writing could be as easy as riding a bicycle. I’m not sure how long this spree will last before other hobbies vie for my short-lived attention. This practice isn’t easy, but it’s fun. It’s something I’ve kept up for years and on and off, even having this newsletter as an outlet for myself. However, my track record is shit because my ego gets in the way. And maybe that’s why pouring my feelings out and taking an emotional dump all over my journal helps me become a better writer. It’s a good first step.
My practice is not unique. Other people get up and journal voraciously, spilling the purest form of their feelings and giving them a home to incubate and grow. I think of my own personal experience as a time for mindfulness, because I don’t end up reading the entries until much later. More structured programs like Julia Cameron’s The Artist Ways prescribe a strict format, while other techniques feel laissez-faire. Either way, words to paper, it all serves as the first step to writing as a habit.
I find it’s a good exercise (free writing and journaling) in order to dump out all the muck in your mind. I’d like to say that the mornings writing in bed are calm, contemplative and composed— but I’d be lying. Most of the time, I’m scribbling down my self-loathing with ferocity. Instead of screaming into the void, I do so in my journal. Sometimes, I brainstorm with chunks of text, outlines, and come out with more questions than came in. Rarely do I have anything usable, straight from the page. That’s where the writing process comes in.
If I were a more experienced human, I’d be able to compare the ways the writing process brutalises and humiliates. Akin to how one can bite it, fall and seriously injure one’s self without proper training and safety equipment. We journal to write what we’re interested about, what we know best. We imagine and create worlds from the tips of our fingers, and dream up queer futures together. We commiserate over our bodies and the ways they’ve betrayed us. That is, if I was a better writer and knew how to bicycle.
Maybe one day I will learn how to ride a bike. If and when that day comes, maybe I’ll also write a proper essay with a metaphor deserving of its iconic status.
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thanks for coming along this journey with me. I’m still not sure where I’m headed and taking a huge rest— but there are fun things coming up. some irl events that I’m throwing with trusted and vetted community members in nyc… save the dates for jun 27 and also jul 26th. 🌸✨