Tag Archives: frustration.

Posting commencing shortly…minor hiccup in the works.

A few writing thoughts have infiltrated my brain lately, but as I’ve been dealing with a lot of family and work issues (the family issues of which I’ve attempted to write a post about 12 times. No, I’m not exaggerating. 12 is the times I’ve opened the document I started last month), I’ve been reluctant to write in a state of stress and unhappiness.

So, I’ve spent the past couple of months trying to comprehend why things work out the way they do, why I’m obsessive the way I am, and why I wrote poetry as much as I used to. I can’t say I’ve found the answers to those things, but maybe that’s the point. I am a questioning sort; what fun is it if the questions get answered?

I spent last night going through my writing files and digesting some of my poetry. This is a good and bad thing. Good because it inspires me and gives me hope that I’m not a total hack when it comes to writing. Bad in that I regret that I’ve somehow lost that momentum and inspiration I had to just write whenever the mood came upon me. Some of the last few posts here have concerned themselves with writing of the past, and I’ve longed to come up with something new, but failed.

In a couple days, I’m going to work up the courage to write about my sister. It’s not going to be easy. In fact, the last 12 times I’ve attempted to write a post before this one, I’ve ended up in tears and abandoning the document. While I think a facebook post detailing, briefly, the sentiment I feel when thinking of my sister helped say what I wanted to then, as the weather turns colder and the holidays approach, those thoughts won’t suffice. I think I will need to say what’s been swimming in my head, and here is my outlet.

The bonus in all of this comes from the fact that I had the courage to open some dusty files and have those seductive writing thoughts I pushed away. Perhaps this time I won’t lose it so quickly.

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Posted by on 11/10/2014 in Uncategorized


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Anger shouldn’t be a motivator…

Here I am. Again, I’m posting after a time away, apologizing for the silence and hoping those that are reading (*waves*) forgive.  I wish I could say I was traveling Europe, fighting some massive disease/disorder/family problem, or digging up a mummy in Egypt, but frankly, the mundane details of life are to blame.

See, I had a post I was going to write last week. It was a list, of sorts, of things I’ve observed and/or believed people should think about. It was very angry. It came from pure frustration, and without looking back, I know that I named the post: Frustration.

Sometimes, I miss being the writer I was. When I was in college, I was constantly stimulated by what I was learning. I admit it. I’m MAD about school. I love learning. I love delving deep into topics, even if other people think they’re over the top. Heck, an average night for me is researching random points of history or pop culture just so I can learn as much as possible in the shortest possible way. I’m a junkie for it, and in my day to day life, it’s something I miss from being 20 and in school.

I miss it because that intellectual stimulation was enough to make me believe and trust in the ideas in my head, and being informed by all I learned, I was eager to apply such new knowledge to my writing. Thus, any new book I read became a new way to explore the worlds already in my head, and every new history lesson gave me a lot more input in the world building I had out in front of me.

Then, I sorta became an adult. Sorta because I still haven’t figured out how to have my cake and eat it when it comes to the dividing line between responsibilities (jobs, bills) and the temptress of writing.

I wish  I could wisk away all the damn frustration and stress of the day, and just let loose in writing. However, I’ve never been a stress writer. I write when happy. I write when in love. I write when I feel confident and happy. I can’t write when I’m ready to wring someone’s neck because the responsibility to show up to work is too much, or I’m exhausted, getting home at 1am, and hoping that the next day doesn’t involve any unexpected maneuvers. I just wish I could go back to the days of easy writing.

But, I can’t. Somehow, I now have to teach myself to write in all this stress and conflict. Somehow, I have to revel in it. My life’s not going to get any easier. Things aren’t going to fall easily in my lap and work out. That’s just simply not my life’s trajectory. Yet, for so long in my writing past, that was how it worked. How do I teach this old dog this new trick?

Maybe this life-long learner needs some new lessons…

Until next time, when things hopefully will be brighter!

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Posted by on 06/11/2013 in Uncategorized


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