I quit blogging this weekend, and simultaneously found out that publishing what I consider my Magnum Opus – or Magnum “Opi” as the first installment is already going to be two books, not one! – that publishing this most significant work is probably not going to be the “muscle through it”- sprint I hoped it would be.
The reason I want it done is so I can start curating and solidifying my websites, my online work.
But publishing those two diaries 1994-1995 and 1995-1996, including the very sexually explicit final chapters, seems to be more accurately categorized as;
Things that are going to massively freak me out.
Things I’m going to lose sleep over.
Things that are going to impact and delay the more easy-going, less-intense career I want to establish under my real name.
Something that is going to bear the characteristics of a marathon and not a sprint.
And I am not an endurance athlete, endurance writer, endurance anything. I m only good at things that forcefully push themselves out of me, despite me not making an effort, despite me not setting time aside.
My projects need to take over my life, if they want to get done.
Instead of having my life taken over a few days, publishing my Magnum Opi could take over my life for weeks or even months.
Which is definitely more than I am willing to invest.
I want them done this week, order them on Friday, and then within two weeks I will have them ready for sale and can start curating the website. With those two books successfully published, my most important work has been converted to print.
If anything happens to my content or I don’t store it right or something, then at least they were saved.
How to go about this?
This little twin monster of my most important work, two books, at the verge of taking over my life? (I feel they’re negotiating who gets to sink their teeth in which part of me!)
I don’t know.
Maybe praying to a higher power, would be my best option.
Anyway, as I was preparing to write you this quick update, I started looking for a New York Times article about a time travel project of one week, to 1994.
But instead I found a music scene documentary of the beginning of this 90s era.
It’s available on YouTube.
And Generation X in a Time Capsule
a New York Times long read about this documentary and its context.
But the article I was looking for, before I found the 1991 music scene documentary, was this article.
It is about a journalist who lives for one week as if she’s in 1994:
1994 Was a Prison of My Own Making
25 years ago was yesterday and a million years ago.
By Caity Weaver | May 14, 2019
So with the extra documentary I found some pretty intense and grungy stuff about the time period I was investigating.
Which has only made me more adamant that ultimately writing about 25 years ago, or writing about the 90s, is my jam.
Last weekend I stopped blogging, online writing for The Diary Project, or the time travel project, but only so I can give it more, and be even more candid in my writing offline.
That first diary I am about to publish – the one I decided with 99% certainty needs to be two books, not one – that is only the beginning.
It is the first diary, or they are the first two diaries of my Magnum Opus.
I will keep writing.
The diary project, or the time travel project, is my deepest work as a writer, and ultimately all my work here will somehow be tied to that.
The reason I consider my time travel diaries my most important work, is because it is my most layered project, consisting of all the aspects that is me or my work or interests.
They are at heart a performance project, or time capsule project.
I cultivate the mindset and experience of being 25 years younger and live as if it is 25 years ago.
The second reason is, they are done as diary writing and letter writing, which are my most developed forms of writing.
The third is because I get to play with elements that reflect my development, choices, and difficulties, in being a writer, and/OR a yoga teacher.
My real life career choices are in the books.
But most importantly of course, I like the books because they are rooted in my sexual life.
I don’t think I would be able to fully express my sexuality if it wasn’t for the fact that I can write about my experiences.
Since I was a teenager I’ve known I need high levels of tension and excitement, to get aroused. From a wider perspective I would say my sexuality was more comparable to those of boys, than those of girls.
I needed to feel safe with someone, and was aware being a girl made me vulnerable, but I was less inclined to pushing or looking for relational security. I didn’t need a relationship, to feel sexually explorative.
Although I was often very much in love, when it came to sexual experimenting I needed friendly comradery, more than romance.
Ever since then the road has been rocky, and at times I have given in to fears that made the road flat. I have been in long-term relationships that were ultimately not just sexually unsatisfying because they didn’t carry enough tension and excitement;
They were detrimental for my personal growth.
To me monogamy, defined as both me but in particular my partner only having me/each other to be physically and emotionally intimate with, that monogamy is damaging.
It’s the quickest way to create a life of stability and perhaps even physical health, because the stress levels remain low.
But I don’t grow in monogamous relationships the way I do when I get challenged by the unpredictability of other, non-specified and more playful, relationship styles.
They bring me more pleasure, more satisfaction but in particular because of their counter parts of jealousy, fear, and uncertainty;
They bring me more growth.
Sure all those aspects of my life give me panic attacks, and more often than not I think I am NOT cut out for this.
That it’s too much and all the stress of never being in a normal boy meets girl, princess and prince charming relationship or marriage, is eating me alive.
That I can’t take it anymore.
But then I know:
Of course I can.
This is what I am here for.
My Time Travel Project, and its first two upcoming books
A letter from a stranger 1994-1995
Dear Nikki 1995-1996
are about capturing that life, in between lovers, in between careers, in between immobilizing fear and insatiable fascination.
All set to a backdrop of the 90s.
And not just for a week.
An Unexamined Life Is Not Worth Living
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