An Occurrence Not Marked By a Particular Passage of Time
I find that, when I'm happy, I find my way here with less frequency. I would question whether it's because I find writing here to be a therapy of sorts or whether my writing is simply borne of a strange sense of sadness and despair. Either way, I occasionally find my way back just to remind the people who come here routinely that I'm still alive.
I have started writing again - fiction, that is - and I've found that, as before, my creativity comes easily some days and excruciatingly painful on others (much like trying to pass a kidney stone the size of an Advil, I'd imagine). Ah, creativity - the occasional kidney stone of the mind. Other times, it's that enjoyable shiver that runs down your spine as you let loose your bladder after holding it through the whole movie. Too descriptive in a vulgar sense?
Never mind.
To speak more of my writing, I'm working on several things concurrently - a spec comic book script, a television drama and the occasional random idea in other media. As strange as it is, I've found that it's very easy for me to suddenly devote hours to working on one project only after frustratingly spending as much time failing to write a single good idea with another. Perhaps, here, my ADHD becomes less a liability and more an asset. My odd mental pacing generally relieves me very soon after becoming frustrated with my work, allowing me to walk away from it before I write ten pages of absolute rubbish which I will subsequently need to go back and re-write (and re-write, and re-write, and re-write...).
It's 3:40 and I'm no longer sleeping on a regular schedule. I've resumed a rather primarily-nocturnal lifestyle which, fortunately, is conducive to my writing habits, while at the same time, unfortunately, works against my necessary job hunt (and eventual daily work routine).
The thoughts in my mind have begun to echo in that way that they do when you're near to unbearable sleepiness, my breathing irregularly regular and deep. Sometimes, I feel I say so much here, and realize I've said so little. These posts, occurrences not marked by any particular passage of time, feel so incomplete and out of place to me ...
Much like I feel from day-to-day. I feel incomplete ... potential unfulfilled ...
I have started writing again - fiction, that is - and I've found that, as before, my creativity comes easily some days and excruciatingly painful on others (much like trying to pass a kidney stone the size of an Advil, I'd imagine). Ah, creativity - the occasional kidney stone of the mind. Other times, it's that enjoyable shiver that runs down your spine as you let loose your bladder after holding it through the whole movie. Too descriptive in a vulgar sense?
Never mind.
To speak more of my writing, I'm working on several things concurrently - a spec comic book script, a television drama and the occasional random idea in other media. As strange as it is, I've found that it's very easy for me to suddenly devote hours to working on one project only after frustratingly spending as much time failing to write a single good idea with another. Perhaps, here, my ADHD becomes less a liability and more an asset. My odd mental pacing generally relieves me very soon after becoming frustrated with my work, allowing me to walk away from it before I write ten pages of absolute rubbish which I will subsequently need to go back and re-write (and re-write, and re-write, and re-write...).
It's 3:40 and I'm no longer sleeping on a regular schedule. I've resumed a rather primarily-nocturnal lifestyle which, fortunately, is conducive to my writing habits, while at the same time, unfortunately, works against my necessary job hunt (and eventual daily work routine).
The thoughts in my mind have begun to echo in that way that they do when you're near to unbearable sleepiness, my breathing irregularly regular and deep. Sometimes, I feel I say so much here, and realize I've said so little. These posts, occurrences not marked by any particular passage of time, feel so incomplete and out of place to me ...
Much like I feel from day-to-day. I feel incomplete ... potential unfulfilled ...
posted by Dave at 3:30:00 AM
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