For those of you who know me, I’m a creative individual. I’ve been here, on WordPress, for a while now. A little over a year, I think. Maybe a bit under? Give or take. Anyway, in all that time, I’ve been able to think of something to say. Sometimes it might be a quick little story, other times it is a poem or a response to a video or a song. Every once in a while, I’ll discuss something that’s going on in my life at the time I’m writing the post.
It isn’t so easy, now.
I have come to the conclusion that “Writer’s Block” has grabbed onto me. Again. This is a state that occurs every once in a while, often when I’m burned out from trying to create a world upon a world. It happens when I’m tackling too many projects at once. It pops up all the time, these days, and I know it’s a combination of stress, a shift in interests, and a sense of unbalance from not knowing what I want to do.
I have a dozen, unfinished/plotted novels sitting in my Gorilla Drive. Part of me wants to work on them, but I don’t really have the desire to actually do it. I can read a book, or a story online, and, in my head, I can envision different stories based around what I just read (or even a movie I watched). I can picture how things could change if a character decided to do something different than what they do in the story/movie/game itself.
This is a skill I’ve had since I was a kid. After reading a book in class, I would often daydream what would happen next in the story while working on classwork. I was right, in a look of occasions, but sometimes my own imagination would take the story in an entirely different direction. This, I suspect, is what started my drive to be a writer. I was only able to daydream about different paths in a story already told, but I would have unlimited power to decide where a story of my own could go.
In that way, I jealously guarded my writing.
I hated having to work on any kind assignment with my classmates. It didn’t matter if this person was my friend or just someone I sort of knew. When it came to writing, I preferred it to be by my hand and mind. I wasn’t all that good at splitting the task when I knew I could do it on my own without any help.
In most cases, input from someone else often ruined the picture in my head.
I remember being in a research project back in the 10th grade. It was part of my Speech and Debate class. I worked with two girls, friends with them both, and we had a hard time figuring out what to look up. One was really girly, one was a tomboy, and then there was me – the artsy one who was interested in spirits and ghouls and the arcane.
I can’t remember what we decided to do the project over. I know there was an argument over who did what – well, more like the other two fought and I stared at them. Finally, I told them one could look up the pros of the topic (the highlights) and the other could hunt down whatever they could find to counteract it. I was the one who put the info in order, pulled it apart, and then wrote the paper itself.
In the end, I still did all the work. They found the information, printed it all out, and then I took what they had found and worked through it. Then I went through and checked to make sure all of it was true, searched dozens of websites and books on similar topics. In the end, though, I was still the one in charge.
These girls, they knew me well enough to know I didn’t work well with others. In fact, they knew I hated having to share work on any project we did. We did show who did what, in how they would hunt down information and all the sources. Then I would make the outlines, write it all out, edit it. Then I’d send it to them and they’d go through what I did to make sure I hadn’t missed anything – and offer suggestions on things I could add.
If they had good reasons for it to be added in, I’d fit it in.
Which is why writing is something I enjoy. It’s my thoughts (my memories) that are being put on paper (or into the keys on the keyboard). It’s solitary. I’m able to express myself and what’s going on within myself. I don’t really use music or pictures to do this because I can’t really relate to most of what I listen to.
Music and movies don’t (often) evoke any kind of emotion save for amusement.
These days, though, writing isn’t as much a passion for me. I still write, yes, but it’s more on the lines of what this post is. Or my poems. Or my posts on The Path of an Asdian Druid, when I take the time to write something on that end of my work. I do a few vlogs over on YouTube for the fun of it. I totally suck, when it comes to that (though I did get over 40 views on one video, where I discussed the aftermath of cutting off my own hair).
From that one video to today, I have cut my hair again. It is now, essentially, gone.
Most of those videos are me talking about druidry. Or my dogs and cats.
I had a few videos just about daily things, but that got rather…boring. So now I’m just doing bits and pieces, here and there, and trying to figure out what the hell I want to do with myself. I can’t sing, not really, and the only thing I have for videos is my phone.
And my phone’s a piece of shit.
So I’m at that point in my life where my Muse doesn’t want to work with me. I’m adrift in a time where I am searching for myself. I’m trying to find out what hobby I want to do. In these moments of life, when nothing is certain, I do wish things were the way they used to be. Back before my mum was diagnosed with cancer, back before my uncle passed away (today, of all days), back before I realized my sister and I were, in a way I’m not all that keen on thinking about, abandoned by our gods’damned parents…
When my sister and I were kids, everything is easier. The trials and tribulations of adults weren’t as sharp and ‘in your face’ as it is today. Back then, I didn’t understand a lot of what was going on. It just didn’t click until I got older, until I was going through it myself.
Then I realized that, yeah, being an adult isn’t easy.
Granted, everyone knows that. I didn’t even consider what being an adult would be like, how hard it would be to get a job and support my mum and me, to put food on the table, to pay the bills from the hospital, until I was facing the struggle face-first. A lot of what I’m going through isn’t something I was prepared for.
The main thing, however, is finding a balance. With the shit-storm that’s life coming at me from all directions, I have to find something to do that brings me a sense of joy and enlightenment. I have to do something I enjoy, I have to give something to the world.
This blog is that thing – the things I share here, it’s all unfiltered.
My brain is talking a hundred miles a minute and my hands are having a hard time keeping up. I write as quickly as my brain is putting the words into my fingertips, letting whatever’s in my head come out in a way I could never say out loud. I speak better on paper, in writing, then I could ever hope to say aloud.
So here’s the thing.
I want to write. I want to give to all of you. I want to do something that’s worthwhile, to do something I enjoy without my sense-of-self becoming lost. I know my poetry is liked quite a bit. The few pieces of creative writing, too. These little posts? Not so much, from what I’ve gathered. They’re more “blog” in a “this is my life” kind of thing.
And my life is boring. Frantic, filled with a lot of random shit, and boring.
There’s also the gods’damned mice.
I’m stressing out, right now. My house is being overrun by mice. My cat has already killed six or seven of them, dropped half of one on my foot (gods, I know it’s a gift, but that isn’t a gift I want to have…ever), and my “bedroom” is filled.
I had a mouse on my desk still a candy wrapper and drag it down behind my desk that’s pushed up against a wall. The damn thing shimmied down the crack between my desk and the wall, with a recess cup wrapper in its fucking mouth and vanished! I sat there and stared at it while it happened. It wasn’t even a foot away from me!
My cat comes up here, but she hasn’t caught anything because my room is such an ungodly mess! I don’t even know where to start when it comes to cleaning it. Maybe I’ll turn that into a video. Me cleaning my “workroom” so it’s a better living environment.
Maybe get some mousetraps, too. Set those up and let them work their magic.
Cause something has to give. I am not sharing my office space with a bunch of candy wrapper thieves. Yeah, I think I’ll make a video of the room before I clean it, while I’m cleaning, and then after I’m done. That’ll be fun. I’ll see what I can do with that. It will be fun, I suppose. Put on some music, clean, and try to not scream because this place is a mess.
Then I’ll eat some Rocky Road Ice Cream.
Then scream some more.
Gods, help us all.