It feels some days like all my focus has just gone... poof. I mean, it's not that I'm unhappy, don't get me wrong - and don't tell anyone that beneath my veneer of cynicism I'm far more content with my life than I've ever been in the past - but it's more difficult these days to get myself going. No, no, let me rephrase: it's more difficult these days to do stuff like what was all part of my old life.
I mean, Luna and I are self-sufficient out here in our victorious little exile. We have a garden where we grow necessities, we sneak into Ponyville to buy coffee and treats now and then - and we might not be rich, but considering we don't pay taxes, bills, or for much else, our little nest egg should last us a very, very long time - and of course Luna has more than one led a "valorous raid" on any military transports passing by Ponyville. I don't think the soldiers find it nearly as entertaining as she does. I also don't know if they'd be more or less furious if they found out that Luna's just playing with them.
We train a lot, and our days are surprisingly-busy: we do regular patrols of the forest, trade letters with Celestia and Twilight Sparkle, and of course there's the whole "moving the moon" thing every morning and every evening. Not to mention keeping the cottage clean and in good condition, and that includes recharging the crystal magical battery thingy that Luna has hooked up outside. I'm just glad that it actually works. I might enjoy the night but it's nice to have a little light to write by. Not to mention electricity to keep the fridge and other appliances running.
But writing is weird these days. I mean, it's not like I'm not writing. I've got countless notes and thoughts from Luna to transcribe into a series of stories about her, Celestia and Sleipnir in the past, to bring reality and life to the old myths of Morgan, Titan and Sol. And I'm damn well determined to do a damn fine job of it. Well. You know. The best I can, which in reflection probably isn't that much. I'm a poet, which is even worse than those loser fantasy sci-fi writers who write ridiculously-long stories no one ever reads, filled with plot holes and self-adulation and 'ooh look at me I'm so smart I took a mythology course in college!'
Then again maybe I'm just mad because I never got to take a mythology course in college. I never even finished grade school, after all. And because even fewer ponies read poetry than they do fantasy or the dreaded sci-fi genre.
Dammit, why is everything better than me?
Still, though. I have a hot wife who could beat up a dragon if she wanted to. Let's see how many other writers can say that.
Anyway, back to the point. Writing my own stuff... my own poetry, and maybe the little novella tickling the back of my mind... that's been hard lately. It's not that I don't have time or focus, it just doesn't want to come out as much as the stuff about Sleipnir, the myths, everything else. In what I now feel like is my "old life," I could sit down and write my own stuff any time of the day, easy, forgetting and foregoing everything else, including the assigned Royal Court projects and speeches for the nobles to present. But now, it's like my stuff no longer has priority... it's all about writing what is... important. To me, to Luna, to... others. I feel like I need to get this stuff written out and recorded before I start pushing my ideas again, even if it takes me years.
Likewise, I don't follow a lot of the old habits I used to have. No breaks to sneak off and just laze around in the middle of the day, taking proper care of myself instead of just lackadaisically dragging myself around, eating regularly instead of snacking occasionally on whatever I come across and pretending it's sustenance. And no more going out of my way just to make a nuisance of myself, of course, but I think that's because I'm in the middle of a forest and Luna beats me if I float around annoying her. But you know what? It feels good. Not. Not the part about Luna beating me, clearly, I mean this new life I'm living, instead of the old. Trying to be more responsible. Trying to take after Luna. Growing up, I should ironically say.
Weird.
~Scrivener Blooms
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