I love to write. There's no better feeling than when the words just pour out onto the page, expressively and descriptively in the correct amounts to create a visual world. I love when it just overcomes me and an hour later I have a tiny masterpiece. Love to write about what I am passionate about in this crazy little world, politics, news, my adventures, friends, foes, whatever strikes me at that moment.
My passion for writing will quickly turn to soul shredding hatred for writing on days like today when I have something that I want to get off my chest, something that is really annoying the hell out of me and it gets stuck. It's not really writer's block so much as it's like ketchup that gets stuck in the neck of the bottle, you pound on the bottle where the "57" is etched in the bottle because this is a secret of the people who grew up where this shit is bottled and then suddenly.......your staring at a goopy lake of ketchup where a second ago was a nice plate of french fries.
Stuck.
I have deleted the same paragraph 3 times. And re-written that paragraph 3 times in a feeble attempt to express what is stuck in my head.
The words are not flowing properly today and usually I get lost in the words as I am writing them but today I am painfully aware of every movement of my fingers on the keyboard. It makes me very self conscience of what I am doing, which makes it impossible to be creative in any way.
So I sit here at my desk, re-reading the words over and over trying to find a path for them to follow but there is no path because it's stuck. I sit here at my desk, staring at the ceiling, the page, humming to the tunes that I am listening to, bouncing my knee in anxious frustration. I sit here at this desk and the cursor on the page is flashing at me in angry impatience and the red line for spell check glares at me in accusation until I fix my mistakes. I stare out the window and I have to wonder if this isn't more than just my thoughts getting bottled up, if it's me bottling up what I am feeling to an extent in my life that even my writing is coming out in a convoluted mess.
Is this all just a shitty metaphor for my life in it's current state? Is the self awareness that I am experiencing watching myself write really a sign of an existential crisis that I am not acknowledging?
?
How do you know if your going through an existential crisis? What is an existential crisis? Is everyone's existential crisis different because we are all at different realizations of our own existence? In essence, my existential crisis might just be a shade of gray in someone else's World while being bright red in mine.
HA! Shade of gray, funny how life comes full circle sometimes and puts us in the same situation only different positions.
Oh whatever, I am giving up on this process because it is not working for me at all.
Till Next Time,
BEX
My passion for writing will quickly turn to soul shredding hatred for writing on days like today when I have something that I want to get off my chest, something that is really annoying the hell out of me and it gets stuck. It's not really writer's block so much as it's like ketchup that gets stuck in the neck of the bottle, you pound on the bottle where the "57" is etched in the bottle because this is a secret of the people who grew up where this shit is bottled and then suddenly.......your staring at a goopy lake of ketchup where a second ago was a nice plate of french fries.
Stuck.
I have deleted the same paragraph 3 times. And re-written that paragraph 3 times in a feeble attempt to express what is stuck in my head.
The words are not flowing properly today and usually I get lost in the words as I am writing them but today I am painfully aware of every movement of my fingers on the keyboard. It makes me very self conscience of what I am doing, which makes it impossible to be creative in any way.
So I sit here at my desk, re-reading the words over and over trying to find a path for them to follow but there is no path because it's stuck. I sit here at my desk, staring at the ceiling, the page, humming to the tunes that I am listening to, bouncing my knee in anxious frustration. I sit here at this desk and the cursor on the page is flashing at me in angry impatience and the red line for spell check glares at me in accusation until I fix my mistakes. I stare out the window and I have to wonder if this isn't more than just my thoughts getting bottled up, if it's me bottling up what I am feeling to an extent in my life that even my writing is coming out in a convoluted mess.
Is this all just a shitty metaphor for my life in it's current state? Is the self awareness that I am experiencing watching myself write really a sign of an existential crisis that I am not acknowledging?
?
How do you know if your going through an existential crisis? What is an existential crisis? Is everyone's existential crisis different because we are all at different realizations of our own existence? In essence, my existential crisis might just be a shade of gray in someone else's World while being bright red in mine.
HA! Shade of gray, funny how life comes full circle sometimes and puts us in the same situation only different positions.
Oh whatever, I am giving up on this process because it is not working for me at all.
Till Next Time,
BEX
1 comment:
there are no shades of gray...only black and white :P
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