Beat it with a club

Sometimes I get desperate.

I used to feel desperate when it comes to grades, friends, once with a boy in high school, and once with a boy in college. I used to feel desperate about my future, about making money, not having enough money. I used to feel desperate about the person I so want to become, and the person I see I’m becoming, which I was usually extremely unhappy with. I used feel desperate often, usually, and probably.

Now, I feel the most desperate staring at a blank screen. I have this inherent urge to type, type my thoughts, my feelings, about the conversation I had this morning, about the epiphany that popped into my mind during my swim… and I get nothing. All these thoughts and ideas swelling up in my head and I’m drawing a blank.

I’m supposed to be able to write more, right? I have the time and energy now. I have the mindspace now. But there’s something there. Or there’s nothing there. I’m not sure which one.

I wonder if I need a change in scenery, in routine, in…?

I wonder if I need to keep trucking?

I wonder if I’m wondering too much?

One question that’s been coming up in my mind is: What is my art?

What am I working toward? When I tell people I’m a writer, which I never really intended to, but somehow it ends up coming out like that, I get asked, What writing projects are you working on? And in passing, How’s your writing going?

And I… draw a blank. I talk about my personal blog and weekly emails but I don’t have a specific project to point to, something I can say I’m working toward with a result in mind. So maybe I need to set some goals, and not just leave my writing up to chance, whim, and when-inspiration-hits.

I really like how Jack London said:

“You can’t wait for inspiration. You have to go after it with a club.”

Damn that’s Boss — yeah, with a capital B. Lol.

I feel like I used that quote before at some point haha. If I did, that’s how much I like it. Because I want to own my writing, not hit it up when convenient or easy. But it’s such a fine line, isn’t it?

The moment you treat it with anything less than respect and honor for the art and beauty that she is, she flips her head, tosses her locks, and flounces out of the room. And, because I’m stuck on trying to approach her systematically, practically, and effectively, she refuses my advances. And then, when you try to woo her back, she has that leverage of being treated less than what she knows she’s worth. And you must do some sort of penance and humble yourself to get her back on level ground with you. Once you do, you’re floating because your efforts have been accepted and deemed sufficient for — now.

Damn. That accurately describes every female, me included, I think. Poor men. Hahahah.

I don’t know where that came from. I guess that’s what I feel like, in a sense. Just really dramatic as usual and — desperate.

Maybe I’m just hungry. It’s almost time for lunch. Not yet, but almost.