FOURTEEN

Fourteen.

14.

Do you know what that number represents? That is the number of times I posted this summer. Fourteen times.

5 Videos, a MySpace blog unearthed from 2006, 1 Half-Assed Review, a couple of pictures, a song and a handful of rants (including the Ryan Dunn one that got a lot of attention, apparently).

That's it. In three months time, I posted less than the entire month of May alone. I'd like to say it was because I was off doing amazing things all summer, but that's not true. I was busy with work and the Salt Lake City Film Festival most of the summer. That's what filled up most of my days. Exciting, right?

Meanwhile, my Tumblr is full of the laziest reblogs and bullshit photos while trevorhale.com sits here neglected and lonely. Every few weeks I'd tell myself that I'd get back on the horse and start writing again. I wanted to get back to where I was last year at this time, posting anywhere from 20 - 40 things a month. I liked doing it and when people would tell me they enjoyed coming here every day, it made me want to keep going.

Then I just never did. Instead, I'd find anything to keep me occupied and then curse myself later for wasting the night and not writing anything.

Even just now—while I was writing this—I got up to play with my cats for 10 minutes and change my shirt. It's 9:45 PM. I'm not going anywhere. I definitely did not need to leave the desk, but I did. And that's kind of been the problem. My attention span for writing is getting shorter and that's a very bad thing. I have a feeling it's because I don't have to write anymore. I'm not writing my comics article for City Weekly anymore. The music website that I pitched 10 story ideas to fell apart (luckily, it fell apart before I spent what little free time I had doing the work). And the HC scene in SLC is dead, so I don't even want to write anything for GCA anymore.

All I have left right now is this. And I need to make the most of it. Starting now.