saving ink

I’ve been absent from this blog for a while, and no matter how I try to rationalize it (I’ve had a lot of work, my parents visited, there was an epic wedding weekend, I had to clean up cat puke) and say I’ve been too busy living to write, I find that excuse leaving a bitter taste in my mouth. Imagine me dropping dead and my obit reading, “She was doing so well but then she got too busy to breathe. Poor thing.”

So what’s the problem, exactly? It’s been eight months since I left my old job and turned freelance. I’m slowly getting to the position where I’m getting steady work (though I need to do more marketing and sort out some legal details still). My website is set up, so all that’s left is to do the actual work when I have it, and that takes far fewer hours per week than my old job required of me, especially since I no longer have to spend eight hours in an office whether I have work to do or not. I have more time than I’ve had since my first year of college (the only time I didn’t also have a job), and plenty of ideas for writing projects, not just in this blog. And yet, it seems that every part of my day is increasingly occupied. So what’s the matter with me?

I think I’ve isolated at least part of it: I may have left my old job behind in December, but I took my old habits with me.

When I had to sit in an office all day, I developed coping mechanisms. As I’m a late riser and night worker, I’d spend the first hour or two of each morning just trying to force my brain awake so I could start being productive. This involved visiting news sites, reading my RSS feeds, downing enough coffee to dispatch a small elephant and generally killing time until I either had to do something time-sensitive or felt like my brain was present enough to start writing an actual article.

When I used to check email at work, it was a matter of keeping my head above water during the daily flood, which meant ignoring a good number of messages, putting many off until the absolute last minute, and dealing with the truly urgent ones - but not immediately, just before it was too late.

These days, I set my own hours. If I feel like working early (say, noonish), I work early. If I feel like getting groceries and working out and making a nice dinner during the day and then working until the wee hours, I do that. I don’t have a set schedule, I have a schedule regulated by necessity and efficiency. I work when I feel I’m most productive. As for email, it’s no longer a flood but a manageable trickle.

And yet, I still won’t answer some messages for days, though they require minimum effort on my part. Worse still, I find myself spending significant parts of my day visiting news sites, reading my RSS feeds, drinking coffee and energy drinks and generally killing time. Except now it’s my time that I’m wasting, not an employer’s, and I’m the only one losing out.

This week was a bit of an eye-opener, in that all of my precious habits that I had developed during my years of working at the newspaper and continued into my freelance life were forcefully disrupted. My parents visited for the week, and since my apartment is tiny that meant I slept at a friend’s place while they took over my flat. That meant no computers, TV or even wifi before bed or right in the morning. Over the weekend two of my good friends got married, and since it was a proper Polish wedding that meant the festivities started on Thursday and finished Monday morning. Luckily, I didn’t have much work during that time, and none of it was that urgent, so that means I spent less time in front of my computer and more time surrounded by breathing human beings that weekend than I had in years - and I had an amazing time. Sure, it helped that the wedding party was well stocked with enough food and booze to keep a small nation-state going for weeks, and that I was surrounded by old friends, many of whom I hadn’t seen in years, as well as my parents, who I see about once a year, but in the end what matters is that the world kept going even if I wasn’t constantly reading about it, and I didn’t die of boredom even if I didn’t constantly have a screen in front of my face.

Does that mean I’m going to throw out my computers and start crashing Polish weddings? No, I like working just enough to ward off imminent starvation (though, have you ever seen a Polish wedding? Crashing those would keep me fed for life…). But it does mean that I need to reevaluate how I spend my time, so that every minute spent in front of a screen is spent doing something that will either earn me money now or in the future. I need to start creating more and consuming less. I need to unsubscribe from RSS feeds (or just delete Reeder off my Mac and phone), be content with listening to the BBC while making breakfast for my daily news fix, turn off the screens before bed and get enough sleep so I can drink coffee for pleasure, not necessity, and take back my time.

In other words, I need to unsubscribe from my old habits, and embrace new ones. It’s about time.

Last month, I posted A Brief History of Poland for Non-Poles, which had originally run in the spring issue of Airgate magazine (one of my glamorous freelance writing gigs). The natural follow-up would be a brief history of the city I’ve now lived in for nearly six years: Kraków (which originally appeared in the summer issue of Airgate). Enjoy.

While the nation of Poland had yet to exist before the 11th century, by then Kraków had several hundred years of history under its belt. According to legend (an irrefutable historical source, if you ask me), the settlement was established in the fourth century when a brave shepherd named Krak defeated the dragon living under Wawel Hill, rendering the surrounding lands safe for settlement and flourishing under his rule. Unfortunately, certain killjoys calling themselves “historians” debate this legend, citing instead a tribe of Vistulans as the original settlers of Wawel Hill.

Capital status

Around 990, the first royal dynasty, Piast, incorporated Kraków into their territories, and the growing city became the seat of the Polish government in 1038. The city gained even more prestige in 1364, when King Casimir III founded the Cracow Academy (now the Jagiellonian University), the second oldest such institution in Central Europe. The university, along with the city’s capital status, made Kraków a flourishing centre of learning and arts in medieval Europe, home to such visionaries as Nicolaus Copernicus (Mikołaj Kopernik as they called him at home). Its Jewish history was also cultivated during this time, when the district of Kazimierz was established in 1495 as a home for the area’s Jewish community.

The Renaissance came to the city in the 15th century, and with it new ideas in the sciences and further development of the arts and all good intellectual pursuits. Much of Kraków’s iconic architecture arose at this time, including the famous alter of St Mary’s Cathedral, and most of the structures of Wawel Castle, when King Sigismund I hired a Florentine architect for some major remodelling.

However, Kraków’s role as royal capital would only last until 1596, when Swede Sigismund III moved the capital to Warsaw (a demotion many Cracovians still feel angry about today).

Invasions and partitions

After several Mongol invasions left the city in ruins, Cracovians finally got smart and decided to build a wall – and not just any wall, but a 3 km massive defensive structure with 46 towers at its completion, the most famous of which is St Florian’s Gate, still standing today. However, no amount of towers could prevent the decline of the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth that began in the 17th century and cumulated in the three partitions of Poland and the end of the Polish nation at the end of the 18th century. For the next 123 years, Kraków’s fate would be in the hands of the Austrian Empire.

Austrian overlords

In 1795, Kraków officially became a part of the Austrian province of Galicia. By most accounts, the Cracovians had it better than Poles under Russian or Prussian rule. The city again became a centre of culture and art, called the “Polish Athens”, after 1866, when Galicia gained autonomy and Polish became the official language of the area once again. This was another golden era for Kraków, when bigwigs of art such as Jan Matejko, Stanisław Ignacy Witkiewicz, Stanisław Wyspiański and other names you’ll find in the National Museum were flourishing.

At the start of the 20th century, Kraków was a thriving modern metropolis, with a newly built tram network consisting of such wonders as electric lighting. While the First World War did some damage to the city, it was relatively unscathed and had the added benefit of being incorporated into the newly-reformed Polish state in 1919, which lasted a grand total of 20 years before Hitler and Stalin ruined the party.

Modern Kraków

The Second World War devastated the Cracovian population, especially its previously burgeoning Jewish community, but left the city’s infrastructure mostly unharmed. After the war, the new Soviet authorities ordered the construction of Nowa Huta as a working man’s counterpart to bourgeois, academic Kraków. Ironically enough, the district, now a part of Kraków, became a centre of anti-communist protests in the 1980s, and now remains a relic of communist chic since the fall of the Iron Curtain and Poland’s regained independence in 1989.

Though no longer serving as Poland’s capital, today Kraków still enjoys the title of “Cultural Capital of Poland” (and has the UNESCO status to prove it), and Cracovians certainly like to mention this fact as often as possible. And while it may not get the important state visits or high-level bankers that Warsaw enjoys, most Cracovians will tell you that they’re proud of living in an ancient city founded by a dragon-slayer.

12:21 am last night. That’s when it came, that moment. It comes more or less weekly, sometimes more, sometimes less, but always when you’re alone. No television, no spouse, no distractions in your headphones. The bed is the best place - that, or the shower. But it’s always when you have just let your guard down, whether scrubbing routinely or just about to drift away.

That moment, when just for a split second, you know you’re not going to make it.

It takes different forms for different people, most more mundane. A housewife knows they’ll run out of money. A father sees his children taken away. A soldier sees the bullet that will sail straight for him. And I see failure and mediocrity, of being not a late bloomer like I always thought, but a non-bloomer.

Just for that moment, you know, know it’s not worth it, that every effort you make is a waste. But then it’s over, and reason takes over, and you see the road ahead with your dreams fulfilled, or at least a damn good effort made towards them. And luckily, this feeling lasts longer.