commitment

not managing a daily entry to the blog becomes another stick to beat myself with. (split infinitive - bad grammar, also deserves punishment).
before starting a blog I produced a stack of sketchbooks with random musings - these I think describe the nature of thought: consistent but random, and are, in themselves, a body of work.  it's my belief that, were I to collate their entire content, to organise it, to impose taxonomy, an oeuvre would emerge.  will I ever do this? quien sabe.
a blog is a different model of thought collection.  I might almost resist its linearity, for, in my sketchbooks, I don't start at the beginning and work through to the end.  I might start anywhere and work 'backwards' or 'forwards', amend some previous thought, annotate something else.  the sketchbooks are primarily full of words, though I often doodle in them when listening to a lecture or someone talking; they are the conduit for nervous energy, the scribblings a mirror of another's rhythms of speech, the acknowledgement of my listening, which I do better if my body can do autonomous actions.  I can think better this way as well: whilst walking or gardening. 
my allotment, also, is an expression of mind sketches; sometimes I am aware of others gardening very seriously, digging rectangular beds and planting vegetables in straight rows.  do the vegetables appreciate this regimentation?  I often come to, realising I have been pottering for an hour, transplanting weeds, lobbing snails into the distance.  I have discovered a word, 'pottager', which I think describes the more random appearance of my allotment: a few vegetables here and there and some flowers amongst.