I've been away for a while. I never really thought I had much to contribute.
I realised recently that this was poor reason to deprive myself of the wisdom (and insanity) contained within these orange walls.
So, here I go again...
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Time Flies
It seems as I grow older, that I am coming to realise the truth in what my father always said; "every year is getting shorter". I remember when a year seemed like an eternity. Each day barely nibbled at the endless expanse of time afforded me.
Now, it seems only yesterday that the events of a year ago occurred. It feels like almost every other day I notice the date and exclaim, "wow, it's numptember already?!?"
Of course, it's probably more like every fortnight...
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Time to dust-off the old pen...
I need inspiration, motivation, and um... something else ending in "shun". I used to write constantly. I had a passion for it; leaf after leaf of A4, filled to every corner with thoughts, story ideas, plans, poems. Now, nothing.
I lived in Ireland for a while. Before I moved, I discovered that my constant scribbling, both writing and sketching, had provided enough waste paper to fill four bin liners. I hated the idea of leaving them all behind, and was horrified by the idea of sending all that personal junk off to be recycled. As I couldn't possibly carry four sacks full of scraps with me (there just wasn't the room for it all), I made a rather painful decision and burned the lot.
Some time later, relieved of the burden of so much unfinished pen-work, I found outlet in a writer's group, and between the misery and inspiration of being trapped in a brutally disfunctional relationship (hey, the sex was amazing) and the support and encouragement of the group, I found the creative energy to write (finish writing) several poems and one or two short stories. I still have most of them in my head.
Now I have no relationship, good or bad, and no group to run to for inspiration and motivation. I have made my work my passion, and improving myself a full-time (if a little half-arsed) occupation. With no social life, constant work, and a minor addiction to computer gaming, I just haven't had the 'oomph' to write anything worthwhile. I haven't even scribbled, doodled, or otherwise wasted paper on unfinished ramblings, so I don't have a truckload of paper to burn for a symbolic 'fresh start'.
Though I have spent much of my time trying to contribute in some small (sometimes obstructive) way to various forums, and kept myself busy administering/moderating one or two (in my leaden-handed way) I fear my creative urges are giving way to a cynical flair for flaming, ranting, or generally spewing commentary. None of this satisfies the creative urge in me.
So, here I declare, proudly and unabashedly (and in bold text), I shall write again!
Perhaps, having made such a statement, I might make more of an effort to live up to it. Who knows?
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S.A.D
I'm finding this Winter more difficult than usual. I don't know if it's something to do with the climate, or a combination of other factors than have conspired to make this one of the longest, darkest, most depressing Winters I've ever faced. Too many grey days without rain...
Don't get me wrong; I'm a fairly happy young man with people to love and who love me, a roof over my head, food in my cupboard, and warmth at the push of a button. I'm blessed and privileged, and I have a good life.
I'm not feeling sorry for myself.
However, if this Winter doesn't end soon, I'm going to lose my battle with outright and unabashed misanthropy, and this rational, reasoning countenance may shatter altogether. If this Winter doesn't end soon, I might never recover.
TP: Hey, this too shall pass buddy!. And it's all my fault. See, I bought this convertible months ago, and haven't seen the sun ever since... but the blood y thing *will* come back, I'm certain. And if not, I find that spending 5 minutes under a sun bench does help.
Aha! It's all your fault. Do me a favour - go out and give it a wax and polish, as I could do with a bit of heavy rain to break up this overcast weather.
