Writing: My constant, unattainable desire

I can't believe it's almost been a month since my last entry.  Time flies when you have three jobs!  I wish I didn't have to have a job so I could dedicate all of my energy towards writing.  It is obvious I need the practice and experience.  It has been a long time since I had the opportunity to write creatively.  College was all about exposition and research.  High school was the only time I really had assignments geared toward developing any kind of lyrical effort.  Oh god, that was a few lifetimes ago. 

I'm so far away from who I was back then, and yet I still have the same dream of those angry, naive years. of writing a book.  A book of what?  I didn't know then and I still have no clue.  Ha. After all these years I am just as clueless.  I was waiting until I was more knowledgeable and more skilled.  Well, I know a little more, but I feel that I am less skilled at writing than I was back in my youth.  Spelling?  I use dictionary.com.  Vocabulary?  Still pretty limited.  Mechanics?  I forgot all of the nuances of grammar.  Back then I had some friends and I was engaged in conversation from time to time, which I believe is a large part of good writing.  It should feel like you are having a conversation with your reader.  Well, nowadays I am either home alone or working, working, working.  When I do have an opportunity to talk to people I usually don't get very far.  I have terrible social skills.  And as I get older, I get worse.  If I tried to write anything I think it would sound...ugh, I can't even come up with a description of my feeble writing.

And then there is the problem of creativity.  I used to be pretty creative, but it has evaporated along with my hope.  Ah, reality sucks.  It has been very difficult for me to cope with the realization that no matter how hard anyone tries, the chances of becoming everything they dream of are very slim, if not impossible.  Except if one dreams of being just another prole.  Yes, if one lowers their expectations it is easy to achieve goals.

Ew, this entry is so depressing.  It serves as an exhibit, demonstrating why no one would enjoy reading my writing.  I just keep rambling on and on about how I have no business writing even though I have the compulsion to write.  It reminds me of those terrible auditions on American Idol.  Those poor fools want to sing so badly, but it is obvious that they shouldn't..ever.  I probably shouldn't write.  But I have done a lot of things that I shouldn't have done.  Not all of them wise, but none have hurt anyone.  Okay, sometimes I did hurt some feelings, which explains partly why I don't have any friends to speak of, but nothing too traumatic.  So, despite my lack of audience and writing ability I will write...as soon as I think of something stellar to write about.  I wouldn't hold your breath tho.

I just realized, that as horrible as my high school years were, I was looking back at it with a bit of fondness.  I suppose high school wasn't all that bad.  It fostered a little bit of my writing capacity.  Now, if I could find a way to do that again without the humiliation and terrible home life I would be getting somewhere.

Resurection

Something very weird happened to me Easter Sunday.  I volunteered to work because I had no plans for Easter.  About an hour after I started work I got lightheaded and everything started getting dark.  The next thing I know, I'm lying on the floor with my boss holding my hand and asking me if I could see him.  I was disoriented and very weak for a few minutes.  They wanted to call an ambulance, but I was with it enough to insist that they did not do such a thing because I do not have insurance.  I had some juice, took a little break and went back to work. 

Now that I reflect on this experience I find it to be a strange coincidence that this bizarre loss of consciousness happened to me on Easter.  I have no idea what happened for that brief moment between standing and waking on my back with a bad headache.  I could have been dead.  It was a scary but serene experience.  Everything just shut down and I experienced nothing for that tiny part of my life or unlife.  Sadly, this nothingness was not that much less than my typical day.  Such a comparison definitely puts things into perspective. 

I have been relatively healthy all my life.  I used to stay active and watch my diet...but I have gotten lazy from depression and exhaustion.  I eat the most convenient garbage available and I no longer exercise.  I take the elevator instead of the stairs and I lay around all day on my day off.  I am not getting any younger and these gross habits are bound to catch up with me eventually.  I could have keeled over and bit the dust yesterday..forever.

I won't lie, at times before this incident, I would fantasize about giving up; finding my son a new family and putting myself out of my misery.  No big loss to society.  But now I can see that life is very fragile and an incredible gift.  Even during my deepest bouts of self pity I was aware of many small things, a fleeting memory, the softness of my blanket, that I would miss if I were no more.  It's not much, but I appreciate it very much now. 

My goal is to become more productive.  I have spent a lot of time doing a whole lotta nothing.  Mostly because I don't think that I will do a very good job at anything.  Well, doing something is by far better than lying on the floor unconscious.  I will no longer be stopped by my inferiority complex.  I will start enjoying the little moments that I have to explore any hidden talents that I have not yet unearthed.  I have to be good at something. or at least not terrible. 

Perhaps I'm being overly dramatic about this incident.  I'm sure many people faint or blackout and are unshaken by it.  Perhaps if I was happier before this happened to me I would think nothing of it.  But since I have done nothing with myself for the past 5 years it hit me pretty hard.  If I believed in god I would think that he was trying to snap me out of my funk.  Well, it got my attention that's for sure. 

I still have a headache and I am pretty tired.  If this happens again, I may have something to worry about, but I'm not going to dwell on it.  I have things to start doing.

Encouragement

My fear that my writing and ideas aren't strong enough to begin writing something has been shown to be unfounded. boy was I mistaken...

My friend passed along 50 Shades of Grey to me.  She said that it was on all of the talk shows and it is selling like hot cakes.  Not being a fan of fiction, romance fiction at that, my curiosity got the best of me and I read the wretched pointless story.  egh.  it left me feeling had and annoyed.  The characters were clueless and monotonous.  The story was predictable and weak.  The sex was boring.  and the writing was terrible!!  But not all was lost on this pathetic book.  If such garbage can sell, then I can surely come up with something that others will enjoy.

I think I was over thinking it.  I thought that readers appreciated good stories and strong heroes and lyrical prose, when all they really want is smut.  I'm not saying that I am going to come up with senseless trash to write about, but now I realize that I can definitely write something good enough to spark some interest.  Time to get daydreaming ...

Thank you E.L. James, for lowering the bar.

Networking

Throughout the years I have become more and more isolated.  This is the result never really feeling understood and stubbornness and irritability.  All of which stem from my abandonment issues and a less than nurtured childhood.  Which has led to even stronger feelings of disdain for my weakness, in that I have not been able to overcome these childish issues so far into my adulthood.  These heavy and unpleasant feelings weigh down my spirit, crippling my confidence, causing me to withdrawal into myself.

Aside from my debilitating introversion, I have a hard time meeting people because I have yet to find people who are interested in the same things that I am.  This has a great deal to do with the fact that I have lived in a small town all my life.  For one thing, there aren't a lot of people to talk to and then, the people that are around are concerned with small town drama.  

Well, last fall I moved out of that small town environment.  I have moved to a bigger town.   It is a small town too, but it is growing rapidly and it is less than a half an hour from an exciting city that is modest in size but it is also growing.  The city is attracting young and smart professional people.  And it has an Occupy group.  I want to participate in this movement very much; I think it is what I have needed for a long time, but I do not know anyone who would go to the meetings with me.  

I have done a lot of things on my own, but I am a bit nervous about getting into this by myself.  It would be nice to have a friend go with me.  So, I have decided to put up an ad on Craigslist to find a politically savvy woman who is looking to get involved with the Occupy movement and would like to carpool with me.  This will be my first time on Craigslist.  I'm a bit worried but hopeful.  I have perused the local personal ads and it looks like there are some people who are looking to meet new people.  Let's see if any want to get radical..

Same old song

So I started this online journal thing.  I am mildly excited about it.  It could be cathartic.  I have wanted to write for a long time.  I tried writing much more when I was younger.  I threw a lot of things away that I thought were stupid but some things are still around.  Here is my last musing. I wrote it a few months ago shortly after I moved to PA.

I suppose it's not what you say, but how you say it.  I've always hesitated to write because I never felt like I had the authority to say anything because I've never done anything.  But the longer I go without writing the more unhappy I become.  All I've ever wanted to do was to write.  


I feel like I'm dying.  


How much time have I wasted doing nothing but doubting and wishing my entire adult life!  It is unbearable.  If I don't have what it takes to live it, the least I can do is write about it.  It is one step up from dreaming.  At least there is a manifestation of ink on paper - a materialization of thoughts.  No, it's not as good as living, but it's not being dead either.  I've been paralyzed for all this time, I might as well have been in a coma.
   
This initial writing exercise is like the flutter of an eyelid, the twitch of a finger after a long cold slumber.  It will take lots of time to get my voice.  And I may just have to admit that my writing sucks and I will never be witty or lyrical or even interesting, but it will keep me from dying.  Because if I can just imagine that there is someone that could read what I write and say "huh, this writer has something good to say." I would be happy.  So I will write to this imaginary critic...

...and then it trails off into illegible scratches as I fell asleep with this last thought.  that was the last time I felt like writing.  And here I am again trying it again..

Sex, Birds, and Procrastination

Well, I'm not getting any younger.. This is a brutal circumstance of life. I am on the annoyingly pathetic track to dying a slacker, loser, underachiever, etc, what-have-you. I spend a great deal of time dreading this fate, but I find myself stuck in the same behavior patterns that keep me from doing anything.

When I was younger I had so many dreams of accomplishing various things to justify my existence, but alas, I have accomplished absolutely nothing.  I have pissed away my days being consumed by meaningless activities or doing absolutely nothing.  It's disgusting.

I have spent several years fulfilling my sensual desires with the wrong people, none of whom could relate to my yearnings for greatness or at least goodness.  Just about everyone I meet is confused by my chronic self-loathing .  They say I'm pretty and smart and funny, so I should be happy. Well, I may be those things but I feel useless.

And when I'm not feeling sorry for myself and not getting it on with a tasty man, I get obsessed with retarded games.  Currently, I am playing Angry Birds morning noon and night.  But before that I was playing Tetris, Bejeweled, Spider Solitaire, and Big Kahuna Reef.  For two years I lived life through my Sim.  I feel sick to my stomach to think about all of the time that I have wasted.  I almost forgot, I would check my Facebook at least 2 times a day and notice a long lost friend or foe or ex and snoop through their profiles.  I would also spend time posting pics and random thoughts.

I am proud to say that I have deleted my Facebook.  Also, I have deleted my dating profile, which also took up a lot of my time.  And once I conquer Angry Birds I will be done with it forever.  I could be heading in the right direction...but perhaps this blog thing could turn into another giant waste of time.  We shall see.

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