Sometimes lately, I feel adrift on the waves of life. OK. That’s not entirely true. I’ve had these feelings my whole life. Not constantly. And certainly not for most of the 12 years I was on anti-depressants (a story for another time). But no…there have been pockets in my life where there was a …nagging. Like I know that while life may be good (or in some cases not so good), that there was more I was supposed to be doing.
I read a great blog post on writing. And owning up to being a writer. And it reminded me of the line in Throw Mama From The Train, “A writer writes.” And I would agree with that. I like to tell people that I am a story teller. That I use whatever medium I need to use to tell the story…words…photos…music…lyrics… As long as I tell the story.
But I gotta be honest. I’ve always been a writer. I think the other stuff comes in to being because there are some things I don’t quite know how to convey in words. Or because I have to have some kind of outlet. I don’t know. I love writing. I love taking pictures. I love playing music. It’s a connundrum.
Or not. Not really. I make some big lamentation…like Oh shit…I have to write…or take pics or play music to release the shit floating in my head. Like it’s some big deal. It’s not. It’s really just how I’m wired. I think it does in some ways go back to the whole story teller thing. Words are definitely my first choice though.
There’s just something so fucking sexy about the right combination of words. When you read it it just sends you to that place that’s not of this realm.
I don’t know that I’ve written anything quite like that. At least not lately. Unless you count that whole fucking sexy thing just now..because between you and me….meow.
I’m kidding. In case you haven’t figured it out…this is one of my patented “I haven’t written shit for so long that I’m trying to remember how to even present something cogent” posts. You can identify these posts by the lack of any real meat about my life at the time. Stories of an upcoming trip to NY next week…of my court date on 11/25…or whether or not I’m going to a concert next week on my own. None of these details are present. It’s really all about how many words I can get on the screen before you, the loyal reader, turn away with a hearty, “WTF just happened?”
Lucky for you, my lunch break is over. So, you may not get to that point in this post. But on the next one, look out.