The Write Stuff or the WoW Factor?

I didn’t feel like writing this evening. My troubled mind was fraught with worry of my present situation and of anticipation of the uncertain future that faces me. Presently the time seems to dissolve with each tick of my wall clock, like an aspirin into a half empty glass of water. The nights are becoming lonelier again as the movies finish sooner and the silence dawns earlier. There is always the possibility of course of engaging in another movie. There is always another movie. Similarly I could endure some light hearted music to pierce the din inside my quiet, somewhat contrived, little box. While both are worthy adversaries against the silence, they fall short of excuses when trying to detach me from the solemn mood that often relentlessly captivates me.

I’ve been strong willed today by fighting temptations of detrimental actions and not giving in as I would have previously done. After successfully juggling a couple of bills this month I found myself in a position today, to renew my subscription for World of Warcraft for September if I really desired it. It’s been one and a half weeks since I last played and have survived two consecutive weekends without it. In my mind I’d suggested maybe I could reward myself if I completed a few more tasks I had on my paperless list, though in truth, if I was able to play then it would probably consume all of my time. During the last week of August when my subscription was drawing to a close, my attention to the game was already waning and it’s typical of human nature to want something just because it’s not there and so true that ‘you don’t miss it until it’s gone’.

Having the luxury of WoW would be detrimental to my writing too because the interaction with friends in the online world would partly alleviate the silence and would consume my attention completely and without prejudice. This is a big reason for me not to re-join that world. Many times have I been through that gate and I know what lies beyond those monstrously towering imaginary walls of doom. Maybe I’d survive a few more weeks of addiction before the boredom once again threatens my weakened mind into submission. I feel it would be a great risk, in my present disposition, to undertake the challenge to discipline and condition myself to play the game in only short quantities, restricted to certain times of the day and not consistently for several hours without submission.

Could it finally be time to embrace the solitude and silence of nights sitting behind my laptop in order to pursue my writing dreams? It is after all, typical behaviour and perhaps the makings of a writer…