What I’ve done is this. I opened a “new post” on WordPress and I just started randomly typing. I have no freaking idea what I’m going to write about. I’m just…I can’t…I can’t get it up. Words like flaccid, incompetent, and surprisingly…bonerless come to mind. (really?) I’m failing at every turn with actually doing something meaningful. I’m just floundering around in the kiddie end of the pool, refusing to dive into the deep end without swimming lessons of some kind or at the very least those little orange wings. I’m scared! I’m purpose-failing. Purposeless. Pointless.
I Don’t Want to Drown (Throw me a noodle!!)
I haven’t returned emails (Sorry peeps). I don’t know what direction to turn. All my blog posts lately have been sort of…unfocused and random. I am lacking something. Something is missing. Inspiration, sure, yes, but that’s….easy to see. I did actually force myself to write just a tiny bit on my WIP the other day. So for a brief moment I had…the will to continue on. But it was very brief. It burned out.
What’s really happening is that my blog is devolving into boring, mindless journal entries that never actually say anything. They aren’t even funny anymore! (were they ever? They are the sad sad ravings of a malcontent)
The problem (this is my favorite word of all time I’ve decided) is that I am directionless. (I’m also in love with -less as you can tell). I am floating along like seaweed in the ocean, bobbing along, slimy, salty (maybe), cold and definitely unable to steer or even see where I’m going. I might even be like a jelly fish…without a fucking brain!!! Taste that zombies!!!
Hedonistic Pleasure Seeker Starts Commune
I’m just routinely escaping into stories that are not my own, escaping from the fact that I can’t decide. I want to escape into other’s ideas. I want someone to feed me…and not some fake fast food. I want to feast on the real fucking deal. I want to drink the Cristal of souls! (Mostly undead souls…call me Buffy) I want to find meaning somewhere. Spiritual meaning, deeper meaning, my life’s meaning. My goals, aspirations, desires, strengths, weaknesses. I want to be happy. All the TIME!! And I’ve done an excellent job of programming myself (Yes, I’ll be posting for a computer programmer shortly to fix these problems) to believe that it’s EVIL and WRONG to be happy all the time. I don’t want to end up some kind of hedonistic pleasure seeker?! That sounds so dirty!!
Broken Toto Record (Specifically the Rains Down in Africa)
My existential meltdown is a full scale nuclear meltdown. I just don’t care. I’m a broken revolving record, warped in the sun with dirt encrusted grooves, the needle pushing the dirt in deeper than ever before, scarring my vinyl surface. I’m scratched and screeching.
I Like to Keep You Abreast (har har) (of current events or non-events)
I’m so sick of myself. I’m sure you’re sick of me too. I feel somehow obligated to keep you up to date on my boring-ness. Otherwise I would simply disappear. Turn into fog or maybe sunlight that blinds with those little floating dust motes that are probably some kind of tiny bug that lives in our hair or nose or something. Ew.
I’m thinking…Therapy? MFA? New job? Changes? No changes? Children? Writing?
Feeling miserable. My brain is mush. Truly, I think it’s because I am not finding joy in the things I normally find joy in.
I take that back. I can still find joy in them, I just can’t get myself to DO IT!! I have too many things on my mind. It’s like my mind at night, full of strange and apparently meaningless dreams…that seem to last the entire night. Is this my brain on meds? Unfocused?
Life Used to be Like Playing Lions and Gazelles
I am happy to be doing, out and about, living, going, enjoying. That’s nice. But I can’t give myself a freaking break for wanting to do nothing for a while. Is it wrong? Is it a waste of my life? In the past, when I was writing/blogging hard, I was pushing, pushing, pushing. Everything was blogging, everything was writing, everything was marketing. It was a FRENZY. A medicine-less (!) frenzy. Like piranhas and hotdogs!!!
Now….now…the sadness. But also not sadness…anticipation. I shouldn’t make this sound so depressing. It’s really not. I am seeking, searching, reaching out, trying, tasting, wanting. That’s good isn’t it? I’m trying to find my spot on the map. I’m climbing my mountain to paradise, assholes!! Recognize!
That British Lady Says “You’re in the middle of lake Titicaca”
Blurg. So I’m gonna try to read some books, I might try some therapy cause I’ve been inspired to do so. To try to change me. For the moment…it seems I’m directionless, but I hope it just means that I’m going to find a path soon after all this flailing around like a fool. I’m reorienting. I’m basically like your GPS when it has no idea where the hell you’re at. You’re in the middle of a field, NO, SHIT, you’re in the middle of a goddamned 6 lane highway and you need to cross 5 lanes of traffic to your exit! PANIC!! PANIC!!
But then you calm the fuck down and think…I’ll find my way. Maybe it’s time. Maybe after the last year that I’ve had, I need to reorient. Recalculate. (without that robot voice though cause that would be creepy). I need to give myself a damn break. Relax. Calm the F down because yes, I’m on the highway, the 6 goddamn lane highway…but you know what, there are other exits coming up and they might be even MORE awesome than the one I just missed.
So I’m gonna be offline reading some books about like..self help and happiness and self-discovery. I hope. Offline. I’m not saying goodbye though, don’t get that idea! And I just might…share with you what I’m learning. Wish me luck!!
Where’s the Zombie Love at??
And with that piece of repeating bullshit, I leave you, adrift! Like a goddamned jelly fish. Just waiting to sting the shit out of some happy person at the beach who has no idea what the hell it’s like to be a jelly fish, with no brain. It’s sad when you’re not wanted by zombies. It really is.
Congratulate me…on another blog post….that was just me rambling. I win!! P.S. Up there I said Bonerless. HAAAA!!! And I got away with it!!!