I’m going to be honest with you, fam. I was dreading sitting down to write this blog post. I absolutely love writing and sharing my experiences with all of you, but the week that I had been afraid I would eventually face had finally come:
I was blocked. In a very writer-esque way.
After several weeks of being very inspired and writing articles while feverishly typing at my keyboard and hissing at anyone that tries to interrupt me, I finally hit a wall. I had spent my entire week leading up to today praying that inspiration would strike. Then finally, the day came when I would need to post, and I still had nothing. I remembered texting my friend on Friday afternoon about my weekend plans…
“I really need to get some writing done…waiting for motivation to find me doesn’t seem to be working out well.”
Then I followed it up with some “haha’s” to cover up the hollow, empty feeling of dread that was overtaking me and trying to swallow me whole.
So I thought, why not write about the feeling of writing uninspired? Why not talk about the process of writing when there’s no inspiration flowing through my head and my fingers? Is that incredibly trite and overdone?
I sure hope so.
I armed myself with different idioms that expressed how I was feeling and prepared to write about how writing uninspired is like pulling teeth. And then I remembered that I really should make an appointment for the dentist. Then I remembered that I have to sign up for health insurance soon…and that in February I’ll be 26 and need to be fully on my own health insurance.
Where has my life gone? I used to have so much more energy, so much more optimism…back when I was young and full of life and writing passionately about pizza…
Sigh, last week feels so long ago.
On the bright side, stream of consciousness writing is kinda my MO. My bread and butter, if you will. But not my bread and butter pickle, because sweet pickles are disgusting and sour pickles are the best, and I’m just now realizing that maybe the type of pickle you like is a metaphor for who you are. Sweet people like sweet pickles, sour, sarcastic people like sour pickles, and people who don’t like pickles are basically just dead to me.
Am I right or am I right?
If you’ve read any of the creative work I did in high school or college or listened to either of the speeches I’ve given, you know that I’m a huge fan of the long, rambling, trite, and played-out writing style that is: The Stream of Consciousness.
(If you haven’t read/heard them but you know me as a human, this personal fact probably still makes a lot of sense.)
But just in case you don’t know…
I speak in Stream of Consciousness in my everyday life. As opposed to speaking in well thought-out sentences and eloquently making my arguments while sipping delicately on my peppermint licorice tea, I instead choose to simply start talking and and let my words flow freely and uninhibited from my face. I just talk and talk and talk until something makes sense.
If you really want to see me on a roll, stare at me and don’t respond at all to anything I’m saying. Then you’ll hear some really interesting things delivered in a nervous pitch that only dogs can really hear.
I honestly believe that some of the most honest, personal thoughts can come from a Stream of Consciousness, or shotgun method thinking. If you just keep talking, some of it’s bound to be good, right? And monkeys using typewriters will eventually type out the script for the entire series of The Office? Or maybe the monkey is just watching The Office while she’s typing…
And as everyone knows, I just really like to hear myself talk. Yet I don’t like to hear my voice in recordings. See if you can figure that one out.
So as I sit here in front of my keyboard and stretch out all of my muscles, I think about the yoga that I did this morning. Wow, I should probably look for more yoga videos to download. And all of the instructors are always wearing those yoga outfits with the dragonflies on them. What’s up with that anyway? Do they get paid to wear those? Could I get paid to wear those?
And suddenly I’m lost in a daydream about being paid to wear certain yoga clothes and wondering how the brand would feel, watching me fall out of poses and laughing at my boyfriend in yoga. Which reminds me that he didn’t get yelled at in class this week. Before you ask, yes, that is actually a great accomplishment…
And suddenly I’m feeling like Todd on Bojack Horseman making crazy, outlandish connections as I jump from one thought to another. But unlike Todd, if I see Character Actress Margo Martindale, I’ll be prepared.
So just try and sabotage my rock opera, I dare you.
Just kidding, I would never have the patience to write a rock opera. Also I’m not a composer. Also I’m not entirely sure what a “rock opera” is, per se. I always just imagined people singing about sediment.
This is exactly why blog writing is the perfect medium for me. It takes very little patience, and doesn’t involve composing any music.
And I know what a blog is!
As someone who works in small bursts of energy, blog posts are perfect for me. I love giving my opinion, saying my piece, and then slinking back into my hole (read as: bed, covered in blankets and stuffed animals) until the next week. One topic at a time, one week at a time, one short article. Blogs are to journalism what haikus are to poetry.
I should stop rambling.
By now I’m just typing words,