Updating is a fine virtue
Yet again, it has been a long ass time since I have updated. Life is going well; work is coming along, Tealia is great, plans for the wedding are in full swing (October 28, 2006 bitches)the townhouse has been started (hooray for block and cement poured). The only problem I am coming across is the writing. I have been slacking all week and it is starting to become a sharp point in my mind.
I'm trying to coax out that writing muse out of its hiding place, but nothing I have tried so far is truly working. It's worse then when Dante hides under the bed and I have to shake a box of Cheez-Its to get him out (That little fucker and his Cheez-Its, I swear he would attempt to conquer the world just for a Cheez-It). The full time job drains me, and I try to remember how I wrote while I was in school, which is bullshit because the deadline is not looming in my mind.
I'm fucking rambling.
To dive into the problem, I'm taking this shit way too seriously. Because of this seriousness, the writing gods have hidden away and refuse to come out. In the meantime, I write useless drivel that is never completed, makes no sense, and causes me to cringe whenever I read it. Hell, I read over past stories I wrote in school and my mind screams what the fuck were you thinking?
Maybe I should just take it and easy and go back to writing some poetry, then build my confidence level and writing self esteem up. I need to feel artistic, go out and shoot some photography, get some black and white pictures of the world.
I need to think again. I turn my mind off all the time while I am at work, so the day will go faster and I won't care too much to be stuck in a 6 by 9 office. The consequences of this action is that the creativity is frozen and takes a roaring fire to melt it.
I have been listening and reading some great works. However, it is making me kind of depressed because I want to be among them. All I want to do is write. And write well. Maybe when I go back to school in Jan. I'll find that swift kick in the butt that shall get me started. I don't know why I said that, for I have all ready started.
Blah, I'm done with this tirade.
I'm trying to coax out that writing muse out of its hiding place, but nothing I have tried so far is truly working. It's worse then when Dante hides under the bed and I have to shake a box of Cheez-Its to get him out (That little fucker and his Cheez-Its, I swear he would attempt to conquer the world just for a Cheez-It). The full time job drains me, and I try to remember how I wrote while I was in school, which is bullshit because the deadline is not looming in my mind.
I'm fucking rambling.
To dive into the problem, I'm taking this shit way too seriously. Because of this seriousness, the writing gods have hidden away and refuse to come out. In the meantime, I write useless drivel that is never completed, makes no sense, and causes me to cringe whenever I read it. Hell, I read over past stories I wrote in school and my mind screams what the fuck were you thinking?
Maybe I should just take it and easy and go back to writing some poetry, then build my confidence level and writing self esteem up. I need to feel artistic, go out and shoot some photography, get some black and white pictures of the world.
I need to think again. I turn my mind off all the time while I am at work, so the day will go faster and I won't care too much to be stuck in a 6 by 9 office. The consequences of this action is that the creativity is frozen and takes a roaring fire to melt it.
I have been listening and reading some great works. However, it is making me kind of depressed because I want to be among them. All I want to do is write. And write well. Maybe when I go back to school in Jan. I'll find that swift kick in the butt that shall get me started. I don't know why I said that, for I have all ready started.
Blah, I'm done with this tirade.