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How does writing just vanish from my life at times? I’m not completely sure. I’d like to say it’s because of schoolwork, or my part-time job, or my relationship. But really, it’s because I haven’t kicked my own ass into gear. When I graduate in two months, will I all of a sudden devote all my free time to writing? No. Will I devote more of my time to it? I better, if I want to be a writer. Because writers write. They don’t stop for months and then just pick it up again with all their skills perfectly intact and rust-free. Why have I still not learned this lesson? In one of my English classes, we read a book titled “The War of Art”, and it was all about resistance. Resistance is that life force that keeps you from doing everything you want to do; it keeps you from going on that trip to a new city, or from going out with friends to a place you’ve never been before. Being in a new city tonight (or at least one I haven’t been in for more than ten years) reminds me of resistance. I got here (Chicago) and was grumpy. I complained and I sulked. And right now I’m sitting here writing this post, and wondering why I haven’t accomplished all the things I want to yet. I dread to whisper the word laziness, for fear it would be true. I like to consider myself a hard worker who pushes herself all the time. But what else can it be? I am not making time for writing, and so nothing is happening in that arena of my life, which is supposedly so important to me. As the Rolling Stones eloquently put in a song, “Time waits for no one.” So it’s time to get back on to the proverbial wagon, off of which I have fallen once again. I’ll let you know how it goes. Over and out.