today it’s not doing the trick.
i’m not sure how i feel. i’m tired, i’m hungry, i feel unfocused but yesterday i felt insanely productive. i want to go kayaking but i’m worried it will enhance my awesome sunburn, so i think i’ll just wait until saturday. give that cherry red another day to fade to a lustrous pink.
i’ve been seeing a new therapist for about a month, ever since i’ve suddenly been depressed, like wildly, deeply depressed, self-isolating and not eating for a week depressed. and while some things have come to light – like that i’m severely lacking in B12, which can cause problems with the central nervous system, among other things – i’m also facing things that scare the living fuck out of me, and doing so on a regular basis.
maybe that’s why i’m having a hard time focusing on the book. that’s why i came to starbucks today. free parking, good tea, i have my new headphones… and thirty pages written that are basically my life story.
when i first started writing, it was like the words couldn’t come any faster – i was writing for three hour periods, spilling my guts and cleaning them up again, pulsing with the ideas, going through old memories, dusting off parts of my soul and throwing them against the wall to see what sticks.
but now that the honeymoon phase is over, i actually have to go back and read it again. refine. go deeper. make some kind of point or statement. not that i feel pressure to make a statement, that’s just, you know, what i want to do with this. to show people, especially late teens / early 20s, that so much of our own shit is just self-inflicted. it’s in our heads.
ironic, isn’t it.
my point is my roadblock
is my doing and un-doing.
i’m going to pack it up, find a snack, maybe take a nap in my car, try this again in an hour somewhere else. it sucks to be so dependent on needing electricity – so probably not going to end up at montrose beach – but i’ll find a quiet corner somewhere and keep on truckin.