Take Two

In only a few hours, my writing group is restarting. I don’t know who will show up or how it will go, but the only thing that matters to me is that I really want to write again. My friend who I originally started the group with has joined the artist collective I’ve been in involved with. We’re using this now as our base. He’s going there every day to write for so many hours in order to complete a book he’s working on. That made me remember what it was like to have a dedicated writing project. I miss it. Just now, I was looking back on my writing from last year — my stories and poems. I truly have not written anything in a long time. Maybe a poem or two, that’s all. Though I did participate in a workshop a few weeks ago where a poem I wrote will be published with music online. But that’s it.

What do I share with the group? There’s something strange about reading old work that’s either forgotten entirely or the context is forgotten. When I pull up my writing, I have a very hard time wanting to read it. I would rather write something new. However, I only have a few hours and many tasks to accomplish along the way.

Writing group aside, I’m working on a “secret” project. I’m investigating something with some close friends which is all I will say for now. I have no idea where it will lead, but it could be another big step in my life. Maybe it will lead nowhere. In the meantime, though, it gives me something to focus on and think about. That’s also a feeling I’ve been missing: acting on what comes next. Not wondering or worrying, but acting. I have been doing a lot of worrying these past few months.

I’m still trapped with my store. People came to check it out but ultimately decided not to take over the space. My accountant shared information with me that I should have known at the start relating to how I must operate, meaning I simply cannot operate. That was frustrating. So, I’m left with a big space and no way to use it. I worry about how I’m disappointing all the people who gave me items to sell or who hoped I could make something real out of my dream for a community space. I don’t have the money. It’s always about money in the end which always feels very unfair. I got a raise last month. On the bright side, I’m not bleeding money anymore. Yet I am still losing money uncomfortably quickly. I learned a lot, so I won’t complain. I got a crash course in business. An expensive course, but worthwhile.

What happens now, I don’t know. I’ll meet more people, keep doing what I’m doing, and try to make a life out of it. With the unsurprising news that Iceland is now the most expensive country in the world — surpassing Switzerland — I can only hope for the best.

The writing group comes first. Then, I have a lead on a place where I may be able to hold poetry nights. Then, my secret project continues. If I’m very lucky, I’ll have time to work on my next book. My goal has always been to release one book each year. I hope I can make it this year. I have so many ideas that only need time and space to be executed. On that note, I have finally gotten back into the habit of reading. I bought a little e-reader which my mom brought when she visited last, and it succeeded in being convenient enough to make me read more. I would recommend e-ink e-readers to anyone.

I’m also showing my work next week in the city’s fanciest dining hall. I’ll have advertising material soon which is quite exciting. I’ll have the city museum wall space in July, too.

There isn’t much else to say. I’ve been spending a lot of time on the coast or in the forest, just thinking about life. I’m starting to put the pieces together which is what my secret project is about. But I have no expectations for it. It’s a matter of continuing step-by-step and seeing where life takes me. It’s hot in Iceland today, 14°C, so for now, life is taking me outside.

The 5th of March, 2025. That’s when I wrote my last story. I miss writing because it allowed me to express my thoughts and feelings so creatively. Here’s an excerpt from that last piece, and a link because I hid everything on this website. It’s one of my favorite stories:

To which I would reply, “The only thing that I seek is meaning and purpose. It is only my human nature that I wish to share in these human things with other humans. As much as my heart tells my mind who it is that I love without giving me a choice. The choice is made for me, by my heart, not by me. I live without will. I have no power over myself. If I could live my life without love, I would be happy to control my fate. But my heart speaks, and I have no choice but to listen. My life is not my own. I am prisoner to my heart. And if I had not a heart, surely I would be equally woesome to miss out on such human experiences. The matter is not that of fantasy versus reality. It is that of mind versus heart.”