I haven’t visited here in a long time. I don’t know how I fell off that. Which is to say that I understand the fundamental events that took place and retrospectively, I know exactly where this all started. The what is easy, it’s the when that’s hard.
It starts with taking a day off and then getting distracted. Like happens. You get married or you move to a place and don’t have a job. Or then you get a job and that job sort of consumes your time. And before you realize it, two days is five days and what started as a misstep turns into a personal mess I can’t bare to look at because I feel shame. Because those small steps that everyone always says not to sweat or that don’t matter have suddenly become something else entirely, morphed into a more formidable foe. It’s the atrophy of my writing muscles and the mixing of metaphors. It’s fighting my depression so that others can’t see it but knowing they probably see it anyway. A perpetual motion machine fueled by doubt.
It’s having things to say and not actually wanting the conversation. It’s still wanting to talk because no one else is saying what you want in a thoughtful manner. It’s wanting to writing a well sourced article but knowing I don’t have the actual links. A reaction to Twitter and a lack of Facebook (I don’t have a facebook anymore by the way and I think my life is better for it). It’s the constant pain in my hands from carpel tunnel. It’s trying to write a book and knowing the book isn’t good enough. It’s not liking the articles I read online because I don’t think they have enough depth that I want but then thinking that I can’t show that depth.
Which brings me back here. I have stuff I want to shout into the void. It’s not a coherent mess or a plan. It’s why I don’t enjoy knowing sabermetrics in baseball and why the Marvel Cinematic Universe is worse off for having Spider-Man and X-Men back. It’s talking about the greatness of the Remembrance of Earth’s Past trilogy and the failure to stick the landing of the Broken Earth Trilogy.
I’m no longer setting any real goals. I’m just going to write until I’ve said my piece. I’m hoping to be back by Friday.
A Journal of Impossible Things 