Hmmm. Under my occupation it reads "writer." This should indicate a comfort with writing things down, a relative ease in the act of composing fanciful tales and a joy in the freedom of the empty page, waiting for my words. The reality is more along the lines of "procrastinating self-sabotaging impossibly stubborn elitist snob. who does not write at all, thank you very much." That would be closer to the mark. I put it off each day, allowing the fact that it's been so long to keep me from beginning again. This is very convenient if you want to never get anything done... the longer I go without writing the more crap seems to build up in my head, clogging it. Naturally if I ever try to sit down and break the habit, it is this aforementioned garbage that spews forth, backed up and ready to burst. At this point I feel I'll never hack my way through it all, having allowed it to go this way for so long. So might as well not try at all, no? The other force at work is my eternal mantra of I Can't, which comes hard and fast anytime I am trying to do anything productive, be it noodling around on my guitar, writing a bit of non-autobiographical prose or helping my girlfriend dye her hair, for fucks' sake (although in this last case I claim lack of experience as grounds for my incompetence as well).
I have a friend to whom I owe a long-overdue email. Letters that need to be written. Things to be put away and cleaned, and generally many good things to be set in motion, all that would move my life in a positive fucking direction. Yet none of these things get done. In turn I feel more judgmental and elitist than ever, a natural progression from wasting all my time and hating myself for it.
Even updating this little ol' journal, I've put of for days because I feel overwhelmed with too much to say, so I would never get it all down. Futile and useless emotion. The Rollins Band has a song called Shine that gets me each and every time:
If I listened to everything that they said to me I wouldn't be here
If I took the time to bleed from all the tiny little arrows shot my way I wouldn't be here
The ones who don't do anything are always the ones who try to put you down
You could spend your entire life in the nowhere land of self doubt
No such thing as spare time
No such thing as free time
No such thing as down time
All you got is life time
Change it.
Edit: New pictures, finally.
I have a friend to whom I owe a long-overdue email. Letters that need to be written. Things to be put away and cleaned, and generally many good things to be set in motion, all that would move my life in a positive fucking direction. Yet none of these things get done. In turn I feel more judgmental and elitist than ever, a natural progression from wasting all my time and hating myself for it.
Even updating this little ol' journal, I've put of for days because I feel overwhelmed with too much to say, so I would never get it all down. Futile and useless emotion. The Rollins Band has a song called Shine that gets me each and every time:
If I listened to everything that they said to me I wouldn't be here
If I took the time to bleed from all the tiny little arrows shot my way I wouldn't be here
The ones who don't do anything are always the ones who try to put you down
You could spend your entire life in the nowhere land of self doubt
No such thing as spare time
No such thing as free time
No such thing as down time
All you got is life time
Change it.
Edit: New pictures, finally.
morgan:
Thank you for the link to the book!