it's over. move to somnia.

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Like Stuff, and...Stuff

Sometimes it seems odd to me that I can go days and even weeks at a time without posting anything here. There is something worth writing about every day, but I can't get myself to sit down and write it out. The reason is simple, and embarrassing: I am a slow writer. The grammar snob in me has to make sure that everything is technically correct--and even so, I make mistakes--without any relevance to whether there is any substance to what I write. The reason for that is that I'm a slow thinker. No, I'm not being modest. It's taken me a few minutes already to get this far, and I'm attempting to type this about as stream-of-consciousness as I possibly can.

(Side note: I am a poor typist too. I have tried many times to get through one of those computerized Teach Yourself Typing programs so I don't have to stare at the keyboard while I'm typing. Unfortunately, my hands start to cramp up from the repetitive exercises every single time.)

(Side note to that side note: I have further come to realize that I have a general aversion to computers. I can't think when I'm staring at a screen. Either I zone out and start clicking randomly at other things or my head starts to hurt. Maybe it's the poor ergonomics of my home setup. Maybe I just want to save my vision. Regardless, the obvious answer is that I should sit down with pen and paper and write things that way, then type it up. The only problem with that is that I can never seem to get my thoughts down in order and the paper soon becomes a mess as I draw arrows moving Section B ahead of Section A, or inserting New Idea C into whatever's already on the page. so I type it all up to have a clean copy, then mark that up with new ideas, do it all over again, repeat the process, etc. I go through a lot of paper that way. I feel bad about it. End of note.)

Obviously--and with thanks to Anne Lamott, who made it so obvious--the answer to not being able to write easily is...to write more! (More often, that is.) Her advice is excellent: just let it all come out! Shitty first drafts! Whatever you think, you write. It's only if the text will be published (or is written to impress someone) that it needs revising, and even then, one has to start somewhere. (See how I did that? I went from "you" to "one" in those last two sentences, and I'm not caring!)

Great. Wonderful. This is something I've known for a while. I'm still not writing, though, and it's not for lack of time. Oh, no no. The key is discipline, and that's something I'm finding entirely missing from my life. It's amazing I'm even paying my bills regularly. I don't think I'm the kind of person who can handle routine responsibilities well (the absent-minded professor type, yes?). Which reminds me of way back when I had a job, and my boss would say gently--for I was his favorite--that I needed to multitask more. Well, I can't. I admit it. I really need to work on that. As it is, I just get fixated on one thing, and it's hard to put that down until it's done. I guess I just don't like things open-ended. Weird, considering I'm kind of a capricious person--I expect the world to accommodate my disorderedness, but can't really deal with the randomness of the world.

No, that's not it.

I like the randomness of the world. I am bored by routine. I need novelty. But I don't alway know where to find it...and now I'm getting off track. It seems like what I enjoy about the world--its unpredictability in some respects--isn't what I like in myself.

That's still not it, but I think I'm getting closer.

When I write, I don't know where I'm going to end up. One of the biggest problems I've had throughout my writing life is in how to write a conclusion--or, first, how to come to a conclusion. I tend to leave things hanging, because I don't like to be repetitive. But at the same time, I really struggle to find something new to say to tie together all that has come before. I feel that too often I end up making things sounds falsely portentous. Or I've had trouble focusing on one idea and all the disparate elements of what I've written add up to a labyrinth of gesture and very little argument.

And let's not talk about my powers of argument. They could use some help, too. But I will keep on writing. It helps me to know more about myself, and that's all I truly care about.

Next: Less navel-gazing! (We--I--hope!)
peachy as always, Mike at 7:47 PM