Hey.
Remember me?
I guess it doesn't matter if you do or don't.
Would I even care if so? Does it really matter to me if some strangers online recognize my fake online screen name where I throw out some random and useless thoughts here and there?
It's been a while since I've been here. A few months, actually. So I guess the 'here and there' is really less of here, but more way over there in the distant past. I was writing on here daily for a while, and then abruptly stopped. I have no clue why, really. It's one of those things where you miss a post and then, I'll write something tomorrow and pour my fucking soul out and it'll be so wonderful and beautiful and refreshing and fulfilling.
Then tomorrow comes, and you don't write anything. It gets pushed out again with the excuse being how busy you are, or how tired you are, or how uninspired you are, or how you'd rather watch some random movie and zone out completely instead of think about anything. And then again the next day. Then you find yourself sipping coffee months later on a slow Sunday morning, and you realize you haven't written anything in months. You notice a slight feeling of anxiety that has been building again, and a desire to... purge? Vent? Scream? Rant? And the only visual that accompanies those feelings, which would provide any sense of relief, is to sit at a computer and smash the keyboard like a pissed off monkey trying to showcase his entire soul through the act of written words. And you think that maybe, just maybe, the outlet of writing is something that actually benefits you in some small way. It may not be noticed at the moment of writing – the act itself may seem to be more of a drain and burden on you than a benefit. But after time, without doing that daily practice, it may be like a slow leak of a faucet that just drips away at your sanity, leaving a large mess after a while if not dealt with. A slow drip can carve out massive canyons in the hardest of rock, if given enough time.
I started handwriting in a notebook again, for a couple of days. And then, I just, kinda, stopped writing all together. It's not that I completely set aside the idea. Almost everyday I'm thinking about pulling open my laptop, sitting at my large desktop with multiple screens, or even just pulling out the pen and paper and starting to furiously write whatever comes up. But, that's when the perfectionist mind fires up its boiler and starts pumping steam throughout my mental system, filling every space with lively, overpowering and uncomfortable heat, which fuels the question that any blogger or writer deals with in some way, What's the point?
If one is able to set aside this question and pave through without slowing down or looking back, they're in a good place. If you pause, even for a split second, and give the slightest bit of attention to this thought, you're screwed. It'll destroy vast cities in your mental landscape, with rising death tolls of ideas and passions that couldn't be counted. Doubt and fear are nothing but one-way tickets to the slaughterhouse for ideas, dreams, and passions.
Plus, it's like a seed that gets planted in the mental gardens. And these seeds begin to grow, sprouting new life and begin spreading faster than you can trim it down. And with the rains of attention that saturate everything with life boosting nourishment, it quickly gets out of control. You get overwhelmed, feel defeated, and give up. Even if you really want to do it, and feel the need to do it, you are blocked.
Or, maybe it's just me.
I have several writing projects that I'd love to start working on again. It'd be nice to make progress with them instead of just swirling the ideas around in my head over and over, like some disgusting washing machine found in some poorly lit, slum city street. Why continue to only sit and watch clothes spin around and around? No clue. It doesn't do anything. I think I've been watching clothes spin for a lot of years. And not just any clothes, the same ones. Spinning around and around in the same dirty water. Who knows what disgusting mess is growing inside now.
Before I jump headfirst into various writing projects, in an attempt to check off a few items on the Goals for My Life list, (which does feature a few writing projects on there), I figured I should just get back into the habit of writing every day again. I may not post on here for this process. Maybe this will be the only one that is posted for months again, only to have me bounce back later and write another post on the failed attempts at writing. Oh, how absurd the cycle gets. But, it's a possibility. If not, I'll be using my Joplin digital notebook as a space for that. Or, the site, 750words, which I used years ago as part of a morning mental dump. To start, I want to do the daily mind dumps and just purge out whatever comes up. Let the kitchen sink drain a little, so I can get a better idea of the nasty mess that I'm dealing with. Then get to work.
We'll see how it goes.