ones for Peter and thought, Gee, I don't write like that any more. I
don't write much at all in fact... truly write, I mean, as in express
myself! So I set out to review one of Richard Marx's albums. I sat
here for over an hour struggling to find words that used to come so
effortlessly to my racing mind. I couldn't do it with any sense of
self-satisfaction, no matter how involved my heart got while I
listened to his music in an effort to help myself get "into" it.
So I started "rambling" to my blog. My favourite English teacher had
taught her classes this trick; she said that if you ever have writer's
block, just ramble on and on and eventually you'll get something good
out of it. And if not, it at least gets the juices flowing so you can
get closer to getting over the block.
I was horrified to think that the expressive side of my writing
abilities have waned so dramatically over the last few years. Even
when I didn't really feel like writing, I could still do it on command
to some extent. Now I can email people but writing poetry is a
tedious, unpleasant task that makes me want to bang my head against a
wall to let my feelings gush out in a messy brain-spilling glob. Ah!
You see? That's what I'm talking about. Perhaps my recent exercises
are helping already. I do still "have" it, but the "big words" I used
to be so good at conjuring up out of thin air have all but
disappeared. I spend more time trying to figure out the right word
for what I want to say than I do actually writing! So I will be
reading the dictionary again and every day I'll be rambling. LOL
Part of my problem, I think, is related to what I mentioned to my
mother the last time we spoke - lack of "alone" time. I think I've
failed to realize that in order to write well, I need time to myself.
Lots of it. It isn't just about getting my thoughts together and
experiencing the feeling that I once felt, whether good or bad; it's
about expression, which I can't always do in its entirety because
communication is typically verbal between Dale and I, courtesy of
warnings given me by my past counsellor. But you see, each and every
interruption breaks my thought pattern and in order to avoid feeling
annoyed I simply swallow every feeling whole lest I spout off over
nothing. I found it rather entertaining tonight because as I was
writing, and mentioned it half-heartedly, Dale still managed to
interrupt me at least four times. The last time, he came downstairs
just to make an appearance as he brushed his teeth. I ripped off my
headphones and said laughingly as I finished a string of words with my
fingers: "Of course the interruptions could be a big part of this."
He just looked at me quizzically, not having "heard" the concerns I'd
previously written on my screen, which is why I laughed as I said it.
It made me realize just how justified I am in fearing the process. I
would literally prefer to cease words altogether than have them
constantly dashed upon the bricks and scattered for me to repeatedly
pick up. Have you ever tried to pick up a little serif? Those things
are tiny enough, and damn, are they sharp!! I almost bled after
poking myself with an "A" serif.
I've mused about this, in all seriousness, for some time now and I've
come to the absolute conclusion that yes, I need to state my needs
more often. And I need to stand by them with absolute declaration.
If he's going out and invites me along after I've stated that I'm
going to stay home and do "me" things, then I need to say "No, I have
plans to write today. You go ahead." I need to remember that I have
a right to take this time for myself, and a duty, in fact, to meet
this need for myself. My mom used to do what her and I called "Four-
Year-Tantrums" and by golly, I will NOT have myself start having those
due to unexpressed emotions that are swallowed whole in an attempt to
be with my counterpart every minute of every waking hour we manage to
have off at the same time. It's unhealthy and not who I am besides.
Aight, now I'm tired and will go to bed.
~nv
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