The purpose of this blog is to talk to myself. Of course what tends to spew out is the doubt, the angst. But a Big Year is not life, it’s just one way to focus life. Even as I’ve grown anxious about my big years over the last week or so, life has been filled with joy. Images from last week: the frisson of jogging through puddles after rain has turned to sunshine; Money Monster – a flawless, exhilarating script; Mustang – sexual oppression in Turkey tackled in this angry yet luminescent film.
It’s hard to describe the feeling of calmness that descends upon me when I finally set aside the website-type development work and begin again on my chapters. The whole point of a “big year” is to give daily time and focus to what you’ve judged as most important (at least for this one year) and when you’re not attending to your big year, it feels like existential anxiety.
My Big Decade is a geeky exercise in focus, and it involves plenty of data keeping for the sake of monitoring. Most people are relaxed and monitor nothing. At the other extreme are those within the “quantified self” movement, dedicated to (in Wiki words) “incorporate[ing] technology into data acquisition on aspects of a person’s daily life.” This seems extreme even to me. But one could get fascinated . . .
Check out Steven Jonas’s article “Shannon Conners: A Lifetime of Personal Data.”
Man, these big years squeeze you. I’m working on online stuff. You know, website, palette, fonts, image sizes, landing page . . . stuff I am a klutz at, stuff I kind of know but know nothing. Everything eventually works but clunkily. It all takes too much time. And meantime the Writing Big Year is a pressure cooker waiting to explode. Where I should be is back in the writing cave, from early in the morning. Tomorrow? Monday?