After a lot of pondering, procrastinating, and just plain ignoring, I think I'm going to step away for a little while. I'm going to muddle my way through the current holiday season (in all its familial glory), then try to refocus on this site. I need to figure out if I really want to blog anymore, then once I do, I need to actually follow through on my decision. You know that saying? A writer writes. I'm not saying I'm a writer in the true sense of the word, but if I'm going to blog, then I need to commit myself to blogging regularly.
So, I'll see y'all sometime in the next few months. Have a wonderful holiday season.
Showing posts with label writer's block. Show all posts
Showing posts with label writer's block. Show all posts
Sunday, November 30, 2008
Monday, October 27, 2008
Off with her head!
Where is my head these days?
Certainly not where it should be; not at work, dealing with the epic piles of crap that are accumulating on my desk. It's only a matter of time before they notice, or before the fire marshal comes to condemn my corner of cube land.
Not in the day to day upkeep of a life in motion. Phone calls I need to make are forgotten. Yes, I look like I'm having a conversation, paying attention, nodding in agreement to I know not what, but really I'm miles away. My thoughts jumping like psychotic fish in an overcrowded, electrified pond.
My head isn't here either. I have tried to sit down and focus long enough to write something, anything worth reading, and obviously this isn't it. I have failed miserably, my queue is littered with half completed thoughts, paragraphs that run together, but fail to make a point. My google reader glares accusingly from it's corner of my computer screen, but even that simple, usually enjoyable break in my day, sits undone.
Here's the goocher. The things that have me so utterly distracted would make great posts, but I can't write about them. I'd like to, but one mini drama centers around family, and if Family reads of mini drama, Chanda will be in the poo. Nothing makes me want to drink like a Kennedy than family drama and the impending holidays.
The big pink elephant in the room, the source of all recent lobotomized behavior, centers around absolutely nothing but a remote possibility; a shadow of hope warring with a tsunami of self doubt and ambivalence (hard to say who's). I feel like the more I talk about it, the more I jinx it, and the more humiliated I'll be when it all comes to nothing. See, I told you there was pessimism. Suffice it to say; "Yes, Virginia, there is a guy".
I'll stop this incoherent ramble now, while I'm ahead, sort of. I promise I'll be catching up with everyone soon. In the mean time, that girl in the corner muttering to herself and drooling? Yeah, that's me.
Certainly not where it should be; not at work, dealing with the epic piles of crap that are accumulating on my desk. It's only a matter of time before they notice, or before the fire marshal comes to condemn my corner of cube land.
Not in the day to day upkeep of a life in motion. Phone calls I need to make are forgotten. Yes, I look like I'm having a conversation, paying attention, nodding in agreement to I know not what, but really I'm miles away. My thoughts jumping like psychotic fish in an overcrowded, electrified pond.
My head isn't here either. I have tried to sit down and focus long enough to write something, anything worth reading, and obviously this isn't it. I have failed miserably, my queue is littered with half completed thoughts, paragraphs that run together, but fail to make a point. My google reader glares accusingly from it's corner of my computer screen, but even that simple, usually enjoyable break in my day, sits undone.
Here's the goocher. The things that have me so utterly distracted would make great posts, but I can't write about them. I'd like to, but one mini drama centers around family, and if Family reads of mini drama, Chanda will be in the poo. Nothing makes me want to drink like a Kennedy than family drama and the impending holidays.
The big pink elephant in the room, the source of all recent lobotomized behavior, centers around absolutely nothing but a remote possibility; a shadow of hope warring with a tsunami of self doubt and ambivalence (hard to say who's). I feel like the more I talk about it, the more I jinx it, and the more humiliated I'll be when it all comes to nothing. See, I told you there was pessimism. Suffice it to say; "Yes, Virginia, there is a guy".
I'll stop this incoherent ramble now, while I'm ahead, sort of. I promise I'll be catching up with everyone soon. In the mean time, that girl in the corner muttering to herself and drooling? Yeah, that's me.
Monday, July 28, 2008
Shit or Get Off the Pot
It's official, I suck at keeping this blog updated. I honestly don't know how everyone does it. How do you do it? Inquiring minds want to know.
I've been thinking a bunch about blogging, about my blog specifically, and whether it should be more focused on a particular subject matter? Should I extend my slacker's hiatus until I know exactly what I want to write about? Should I stop all together? If I stop will I miss it? Will I actually do the other things I say I'm going to do if I don't blog? Here's a thought; maybe I'm thinking too much about blogging instead of just shutting up and actually writing. What a concept.
So, what's a procrastinatin' girl supposed to do? I'll tell you what. Shut up and write. And not about the fact that I have nothing to write about. Although that seems to be my current reality, but I digress.
Where was I?
Oh, yes.
Shut up and write.
Since my capacity for original thought is at an all time low tide; we're talking clam digging, dribble castle making, peeing in the tidal pools low, I will just tell you guys what I did on my bloggie vacation. Ironically enough, considering the last sentence, it did not involve going to the beach.
Actually, I didn't do much of anything at all, and I've enjoyed the hell out of it. I've puttered around my house pretending to clean, but really only moving piles of crap from one room to another. I've read novels (trashy and otherwise) on long afternoons sipping iced coffee. I've watched about a gajillion hours of netflixed movies, and subjected the Tapdancer to more than a few indy art films (a weakness of mine). She's always suspicious. With titles like "Wrist cutters, A Love Story" (the current selection I'm trying to talk her into), you can't entirely blame her. But I swear, this one is supposed to be good one!
In a bolder- uh lame brained- move, I whacked off my princess hair (7") and accidentally dyed it a shocking shade of red. The damn box said medium reddish brown. HA! I don't know what cracked up crayola box those jokers were working from, but this is not brown!
And here we are, at the end of the first post-slacker-break post. Here's to hoping it's not the last. That would suck.
I've been thinking a bunch about blogging, about my blog specifically, and whether it should be more focused on a particular subject matter? Should I extend my slacker's hiatus until I know exactly what I want to write about? Should I stop all together? If I stop will I miss it? Will I actually do the other things I say I'm going to do if I don't blog? Here's a thought; maybe I'm thinking too much about blogging instead of just shutting up and actually writing. What a concept.
So, what's a procrastinatin' girl supposed to do? I'll tell you what. Shut up and write. And not about the fact that I have nothing to write about. Although that seems to be my current reality, but I digress.
Where was I?
Oh, yes.
Shut up and write.
Since my capacity for original thought is at an all time low tide; we're talking clam digging, dribble castle making, peeing in the tidal pools low, I will just tell you guys what I did on my bloggie vacation. Ironically enough, considering the last sentence, it did not involve going to the beach.
Actually, I didn't do much of anything at all, and I've enjoyed the hell out of it. I've puttered around my house pretending to clean, but really only moving piles of crap from one room to another. I've read novels (trashy and otherwise) on long afternoons sipping iced coffee. I've watched about a gajillion hours of netflixed movies, and subjected the Tapdancer to more than a few indy art films (a weakness of mine). She's always suspicious. With titles like "Wrist cutters, A Love Story" (the current selection I'm trying to talk her into), you can't entirely blame her. But I swear, this one is supposed to be good one!
In a bolder- uh lame brained- move, I whacked off my princess hair (7") and accidentally dyed it a shocking shade of red. The damn box said medium reddish brown. HA! I don't know what cracked up crayola box those jokers were working from, but this is not brown!
And here we are, at the end of the first post-slacker-break post. Here's to hoping it's not the last. That would suck.
Wednesday, April 2, 2008
Bloggingytis
It feels strange to be blogging again, It's been a while since I've tried to sit down and write, and it seems I've lost my voice. It had become increasingly more difficult to come up with things to write about, and when I did write, I was utterly dissatisfied with what was on the page. As my frustration increased I found myself whispering mean little wasps of stinging criticism in my own ear. You suck at this. It shouldn't be this hard to just write. If it's this difficult for you, you obviously aren't good enough, and should just quit. Jesus, I'm a bitch.
Needless to say, there have been more than a few times within the past few weeks that I resolved to quit, take the damn thing down, and never look back, but I found I couldn't bring myself to do it. The specter of failure, of one more thing I started but just couldn't seem to stick with was always hanging over my shoulder. Walking away for a little while also made it apparent that I would miss it, and more to the point, I would dearly miss the bloggers I have gotten to know and have truly come to care about through their writing, and their support of my attempts at writing. Blogging has also been something my best friend and I have been doing together since we started our respective blogs in the fall. Bouncing post ideas back and forth, playing the part of editor for each other, and discussing at length our favorite blogs has been great fun, and I'm loath to give that up as well.
This dichotomy of wracked insecurity and genuine enjoyment with the whole blogging experience got me thinking about what real writers must go through on a daily basis. How does one get up every morning and give a little bit of yourself with every article,essay, and blog page you write? I've always been fascinated with the creative process, of the psychology that goes into taking that creative spark and translating it to the canvas or page to become something that inspires. I envy those who make it seem so effortless.
I do know that, at least for me, where I was writing was having an adverse effect on my motivation. My computer is set up in a back bedroom that gets little light, and the desk faces the wall. Every time I sat down to write I felt closed in, rigid, and completely cut off from the rest of the house. Tonight, after several false starts, and two visits from a very kind, very patient co-worker/IT guru, I finally have my wireless connection up and running (oh happy day!). I am now writing from the comfort of my very cozy den, curled up on my very comfy couch with warm kitties curled up like throw pillows, and its a much better perspective. I wonder of you all have favorite places or times to write, what inspires, and what stifles.
Where is this post going? I hardly know (I'm rusty here people!), other than to say that I'm beginning to think that blogging is alot like dating that charming, sexy, dangerous guy your mother warned you about- A shitload of heartache, a few tears, at least one good break up, but sooo worth it in the end.
Needless to say, there have been more than a few times within the past few weeks that I resolved to quit, take the damn thing down, and never look back, but I found I couldn't bring myself to do it. The specter of failure, of one more thing I started but just couldn't seem to stick with was always hanging over my shoulder. Walking away for a little while also made it apparent that I would miss it, and more to the point, I would dearly miss the bloggers I have gotten to know and have truly come to care about through their writing, and their support of my attempts at writing. Blogging has also been something my best friend and I have been doing together since we started our respective blogs in the fall. Bouncing post ideas back and forth, playing the part of editor for each other, and discussing at length our favorite blogs has been great fun, and I'm loath to give that up as well.
This dichotomy of wracked insecurity and genuine enjoyment with the whole blogging experience got me thinking about what real writers must go through on a daily basis. How does one get up every morning and give a little bit of yourself with every article,essay, and blog page you write? I've always been fascinated with the creative process, of the psychology that goes into taking that creative spark and translating it to the canvas or page to become something that inspires. I envy those who make it seem so effortless.
I do know that, at least for me, where I was writing was having an adverse effect on my motivation. My computer is set up in a back bedroom that gets little light, and the desk faces the wall. Every time I sat down to write I felt closed in, rigid, and completely cut off from the rest of the house. Tonight, after several false starts, and two visits from a very kind, very patient co-worker/IT guru, I finally have my wireless connection up and running (oh happy day!). I am now writing from the comfort of my very cozy den, curled up on my very comfy couch with warm kitties curled up like throw pillows, and its a much better perspective. I wonder of you all have favorite places or times to write, what inspires, and what stifles.
Where is this post going? I hardly know (I'm rusty here people!), other than to say that I'm beginning to think that blogging is alot like dating that charming, sexy, dangerous guy your mother warned you about- A shitload of heartache, a few tears, at least one good break up, but sooo worth it in the end.
Monday, January 7, 2008
Been Gone too Long
Ahhh, the blank space of a new blog entry, how you do vex me. It's been so very long since Ive posted anything, and it seems absence does not make the heart grow fonder, it causes the brain to grow empty. So, what to do with blank page and empty brain you ask? Torture you with (aack!)photos I took with my new "Merry Christmas to me" camera!!!
I went home to my parent's house for Christmas, and it was lovely. I sucked up as much of the view as I could get.
There was the usual familial tension and stress, but it was delightfully muted by grape juice - of the fermented variety (is that wrong?). My Grandfather and Aunt came down from Mass. as well as my two cousins. There was much merry making;
And eating of roast beast
And waking of the neighbors
Our resident pyro/chef - My Dad
I also got to spend some time with my nephew(only after I knocked my mother out of the way - first grandchild and all that).
All in all, not a bad holiday. New Years Eve was a quiet affair, I hung out over at the Tap dancer's eating sushi and swilling champagne,and we rounded out the week celebrating her birthday this weekend with all the trappings, including a pilgrimage to our favorite Chinese restaurant, Neo-China. Mr. Tap dancer even picked up the tab - what a nice guy!
So, here I sit, another holiday season past, and Ive come out relatively unscathed, sanity mostly in tact. Normally I would be going into January hibernation mode, but I have to get ready to go to the Caribbean with my parents next week, and that, while wonderful in itself, is causing all sorts of anxiety, much of which I will be spewing on the pages of this blog as the week progresses. Neat!
I went home to my parent's house for Christmas, and it was lovely. I sucked up as much of the view as I could get.
There was the usual familial tension and stress, but it was delightfully muted by grape juice - of the fermented variety (is that wrong?). My Grandfather and Aunt came down from Mass. as well as my two cousins. There was much merry making;
And eating of roast beast
And waking of the neighbors
Our resident pyro/chef - My Dad
I also got to spend some time with my nephew(only after I knocked my mother out of the way - first grandchild and all that).
All in all, not a bad holiday. New Years Eve was a quiet affair, I hung out over at the Tap dancer's eating sushi and swilling champagne,and we rounded out the week celebrating her birthday this weekend with all the trappings, including a pilgrimage to our favorite Chinese restaurant, Neo-China. Mr. Tap dancer even picked up the tab - what a nice guy!
So, here I sit, another holiday season past, and Ive come out relatively unscathed, sanity mostly in tact. Normally I would be going into January hibernation mode, but I have to get ready to go to the Caribbean with my parents next week, and that, while wonderful in itself, is causing all sorts of anxiety, much of which I will be spewing on the pages of this blog as the week progresses. Neat!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
