In a little of a Pickle…

I am having trouble writing. Yes! I thought it was weird too! I mean, I finally have the story content I have been longing for, but I simply don't seem to be able to translate it all onto paper. I have my African tale – the story that can finally combine my heritage with all the syfy fantasy stuff I'm always gorging myself on. I even have a 'Christian' story all ready to go. I mean, I have a decent outline of each of these in my head. How can I still have writer's block? I don't understand it! I am starting to think that maybe I really have lost it. Maybe my writing was one of those don't-use-it-you-loose-it gigs. Have I really lost my ability to write? Will I honestly end up an unpublished wannabe forever? Is this the end of me? Please God no. As I write this, think this, everything within me wails in grim denial and despair.

Or maybe it is just the artist in me being all dramatic.

I honestly don't know how I would survive without the characters in my head. Yes, I know that made me sound like a candidate for the loony farm, but it's true. All those characters I invent, the brave heroines, the dashing heroes. They get to do all sorts of things I only ever dream about. They get to say things that I wish could come out of my mouth. They are brave and don't hide from their problems. Thing happen to them – exciting things that can never possibly happen to me. They don't lead boring lives where nothing happens to them. They don't sit around biting their nails waiting for adventure to come. They go for it. They seize the day. They are everything I am not and if I could not live vicariously through them, I would die – seriously wither up and simply die.

Of course, if these characters simply stayed in my head and never made it to the page, then maybe I am a candidate for the loony farm. They need to live. I have to bring them to life. I am killing them by not writing their stories, and by extension am killing myself right along with them. I have to snap out of this. I have to. I simply have to figure out how…

 

Singing in the Shower

Resolutions are funny things. We're in week two and I haven't even managed to keep a single one of them! So now the guilt of this creeps in. Who would have thought that singing in the shower would be so hard? But as one who always thinks and plans one's day in the shower, switching to singing and being light hearted about soaping my legs and back is a whole change for me. Even if I remind myself to sing one minute before I step under the spray of water, I still forget! After two weeks, I've only managed it once so far. How pathetic is that?

So of course, all these failed resolutions are making me morose and moody. I want to snap everyone's head off. I have zero tolerance and even less patience with anything and anyone in my current state. So to avoid blowing up on anyone, I close in on my self – bury myself in my books and avoid all human contact. This worked better when I lived by myself. When living with other people. Silence usually makes them uncomfortable and leads them to prod you, thus annoying you further and the vicious cycle continues. Agh!

I'll snap out of it. I just need to remember where I misplaced my joy. Oh help.

An Auspicious Beginning

 

Okay, so today was a rather bland way to begin this New Year. With everyone crawling out of the sheets mid to late morning nursing hangovers and serious regrets about their activities the night before (or is it the year before…?), it was quite a way to start things off. It all certainly has me hoping that all this groggy drowsiness is due to the hangover from last year, rather than a foretaste of things to come. It was a crappy day in all. Nothing great happened. One thing bad did happen. The phone call and person I was waiting for did not come. Which gave me a sick feeling in my gut, as the consequences are really bad if this person does not get in touch with me soon. But I did get a random phone call from someone else instead. It was a pleasant surprise. It was nice. Interesting.

So yeah, the first was not very memorable. Quite the opposite in fact. I think once the sick feeling in the pit of my stomach disappears, I'll feel better. Once things arrive in Zed and I can move past this, I'll feel better. It seems that my feeling better depends on a lot of external factors outside my control. Which sucks. Okay. Enough with the random thoughts. I am zoning out now.

I almost forgot to submit a blog today, so I am sneaking this one in just in time. It may not be as long or as deep, but it is still an idea – a thought released out into the cosmos. Right? Right.