Writing to you from inside my giant creativity suck hole...I think I just have to write through it, or I'll just stop all together and have to watch tv all day, munching anti depressants like they were bon-bons.
So yeah...here I am-writer. There you are...reader. Fuck, now what?!
I'll just free associate...just so long as some letters are getting typed into this computer thingy-then technically I'm "writing".
I feel like I'm sitting in a cube of jello lately. I can look around me but everything is distorted and I can move, but I feel like I'm moving underwater. Tired, sluggish, crabby, and no-not pms'ing. I am having spiritual pms. I'm not getting my flow-as it were.
Surrounded by things I should be doing, I peer at them like the enemy across the battlefield. Distractions taunt me. The books yell "read me, stupid!" and the t.v. blusters "turn me on baby, my dvr is full of fun!" Then the bed cries "if you're not going to make me, then get in me and stop fucking around on that damn computer."
I think I took that scenario too far. I am not so far gone as to think that the furniture is talking to me, don't worry-I'm good. ...Well...goodish. Ok, I'm so-so.
Immobility-that's the word that pops into my head. I feel so stuck in my rut. Like a needle skipping over a record constantly until you get so annoyed you have to get up and bump the turntable. I need to bump the proverbial turntable. I started gathering steam to try to motivate myself out of inactivity. Wait, try to motivate-that's sort of weak. Like I'll try to try.
I was trying-read previous blog posts...I was gung ho, as they say. Now this ho is not so gung, I guess. It's a constant battle, and I have to continue to fight the good fight. I use alot of cliches, don't I? Note to self: Stop using trite cliches. Note to self: saying note to self is a trite cliche.
Hey short attention span!!
Yes, I'm talking to you, twitterhead.
Keep your eyes on the blog-stop checking your facebook to see what John Hughes character your friends are...just keep writing.
But it's hard! The internet woos me like shiny things distract kittens. I just want to Wikipedia dragonflies. Michelle said she saw a bunch. I wonder if they have eyes. Woah they have great big eyes...bug out.
OVER HERE!
Ok...I'm writing I'm writing. See?! ...Letters. Words. Punctuation.
Just writing what comes into my head. If you are reading this you may not know what to make of me, and it's not really my place to tell you. Some people find politics fascinating. Some people read Danielle Steele. Some people are interested in what's going on in the world, while others are still fascinated by news of Michael Jackson's death and autopsy findings. It's a free country if you want to be an idiot there's nothing stopping you. In fact, that's the American dream. I think that's why our country is in trubs. Yeah, I said trubs. You knew what I meant. I can be cutting edge and still be viably hip. [Note to self: (which I said I wasn't going to do anymore but-fuck it) You are NOT hip. Just by using the word "hip" shows how very NOT you are.] I don't like politics or Danielle Steele. (Or Danielle Steele's politics, for that matter.)
Well, this particular writing exercise has reached it's witty zenith. That was not at all cathartic.
Thanks for nothing.
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