July 2006 Archives

Other people's writing, since I can't write. He is talking about the movie Sideways (which I have yet to see, BTW). From the effect it has on him, I can see that I should maybe hold off seeing it until I am feeling very VERY emotionally stable.

He is relating to his familiarity to the place that the character Miles finds himself in when, after sitting at a crossroads, he turns and drives himself away from a screw up.

I so relate.

That is me. That is I. That is the author of this blog. Sitting at the crossroads forever.

I feel that pain. Pain of fucking things up, of... not being the right person. Not being the person you wanted to be, or thought that you could one day become. Whom you thought you had the potential to be as a kid, smart and witty and always saying the right thing, reading the signs properly, making the right moves, fluid as a cat, graceful as a gazelle, sleek, hungry and accurate like a leopard. Sure-footed, that's the term. A natural. Before the bastards wore you down, before you lost your sense of humour, your sense of perspective, became hunched and angry. Knowing that you probably will never be that person. Not being a writer, for example. Drinking and dialing. Running away. Not saying the right things. Not saying anything. Saying the wrong things. Aceepting the failure and being resigned to having to live with it, because what else is there?

Talk about being able to relate. E@L, you said that brilliantly. My hat's off to you, sir. Oh, and I still lurk, too, just been too. damn. busy.

I used to enjoy it so much, the thrill of it. Once a phrase or an image got in my head, it would rattle round and round until the need to espress it was bigger than I was, bigger than I could hold, and it would explode onto off the ends of my fingers and out, into the electronic aether. My words had wings then. As they flitted away, I was left trying to fill the void with more, better, clearer images until I finally found the right way to express myself.

Only they never were right enough. I would revisit and rewrite, reworking my words until all passion was squelched and I was left with syllables, letters, periods. A desire for perfectionism destroyed my creative writing as surely as it killed my urge to paint anything less than perfect. I read my writing now and I am embarassed. Just as I only saw the flaws in my artwork, I only see the amateurish awkwardness of my poetry, my blogging, my forever unfinished novel.

Now I sit for hours, trying to wish the images back, trying to force the phrasing, and it feels empty, passionless. I don't know what happened, how I let this happen, but I have a sneaking suspicion I lost control of this long ago.

I can't call it writer's block. I would have to be a writer to do that. I don't think it's a block, either. It's an absense of ability, a drought.

I've got nothing. And it's my own damn fault.

Lest it be thought that I have dropped off the face of this earth (again), let me just say that I'm so freakin' busy I hardly know my name anymore.

I'm not on vacation, I'm working on my internship and by working I mean 10-12 hour days. I LOVE the work (data entry and clean up) but it's a lot to expect my kids to put up with. I'm tired and cranky most of the time. I don't have the energy or time to do dishes ot grocery shop. I've got a pile of laundry 3 miles high. Did I mention I'm tired?

I'm also contemplating a lot lately. It's about time for me to grow roots and I don't want them to be here. Can I afford to buy? If I buy, will it be in Greenville (do I have a choice?)? How can I get out of this cycle of paying rent and having nothing to show for it?

My son starts high school next month. That means it's 5 years until both kids graduate high school. That means it's time for me to plan what will happen when they do. I've about got my license in IT but what can I do with it? I've got to keep moving forward but my heart ... my heart isn't in it. Maybe I just need a vacation.

Need to buy some big ticket things and this will directly eeffect whether or not I can even look at buying a house. A new mattress is tops on my list ... but I always figured I would buy one when I moved.

Ugh, I'm not moving. I can't afford to. I don't have the money to do any of the things I need to so I just give up. Looks like I'm stuck in this job, in this house, in this loop of futile drudgery ... unless something amazing happens.

Wow, look at that ... just by thinking, I have given myself fewer things to think about. I've gone from being a cautious optimist to a kind of resigned defeatist.