I wonder if I’ll come to regret writing in Inconsolata as a preferred font. Most likely not, because I enjoy monospace fonts quite lot.

Why am I thinking about fonts? Because that’s something that geeky people like myself do in our spare time. I don’t really care about football or most other sports — with the exception of the Chicago Cubs due to a friendship I made on the internet. I enjoy writing, reading and reflecting on what I’ve written and read. What’s more important than the words that have been written than how the characters constructing those words are relayed to the reader.

Monospace fonts are easy on my eyes and they keep me in touch with the equipment I use to craft them, the computer.

Have I tried other fonts? Absolutely. I used the OS X system font for a long time because it’s generally pleasant to look at. I tried Aniron Bold for a while as well. If you’re not familiar with that one, it’s a font based on the spidery handwriting of Bilbo Baggins. I wanted to use it to start writing a short fantasy story, but it got truly difficult to look at. I settled back to my current favorite, Inconsolata.

Now, I say I enjoy writing. That is a true statement, but not entirely. I used to thoroughly enjoy the process of writing. However, as I leaned into the hobby more I found myself less and less inclined to actually write. The more I realized that writing well is actual work, the less I wanted to do it. I’m not a big fan of working, which is something I suppose a lot of writers have in common otherwise they wouldn’t pursuing writing as a profession.

More than recognizing the fact that writing is work, I started to create internal pressure from perceived outside influence. If that sounds crazy it’s because it is. It may very likely be a symptom of my depression. It may also be because I’m lazy and I just want a clever excuse for not having written anything of substance in almost a year. Either way, it kind of sucks.

Truth be told, for as much free time as I’ve had lately, I feel as though I have both too much and not enough. I feel suffocated by hazy structureless days that turn into wasted weeks and months while I tell myself I’m bored but do nothing about it.

I’m not saying that this is a promise that I’m returning to writing, but it ticks off a box to say that I have actually written. It helps me keep “writer” in my Tinder bio, so at least that’s a plus. If I went much longer without banging something out on the keyboard — get your mind out of the gutter — I might as well replace that descriptor with basket-weaver, master brewer, seventh son of a seventh son or any other title that I have no claim to.