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Ponderances

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IMG_1630.jpgI got the urge to sit down and write and it’s just because. Nothing is going on. I feel good, for the moment. I just want to set some words down, however meaningless. Perhaps it is because of this Mindful app I downloaded. It asked me to choose 3 items from a list of goals or life changes that I wanted to accomplish and one that immediately leapt at me was commitment, which I have not been keeping. It’s not easy, I’m a chronically ill procrastinating dreamer who hasn’t been able to stay committed to a lot of resolutions and positive life changes I’ve tried to instill into my life. Maybe I am tired of the constant struggle. It’s all work. Sometimes I would just like things to happen if I do what I am meant to do, run smoothly, but they don’t.

I’ve also been doing a lot of thinking about my future and what it holds.  I’ve done it often and it held different forms. I alternate between hopeful and catastrophic. I know what it won’t be the OK I used to envision. It has always been in the form of simplicity and humble which is fine by me because I am realistic about the provisions I have made for it and what I want out of life. Satisfaction imbued with a feeling of worthiness. A small home that is mine. I hope that it will be on wheels so I can go wherever I want. That is reaching I know, but it is certainly more likely than brick and mortar. Then, of course there are the medical considerations. I beginning to think my GP regards me as a hypochondriac. They seem to present as mysteries to neurologists, internists and some other “ists”.I’m beginning to think that these professionals may think I enjoy the rarity and mystery as if they make me special. I never wanted to be special like this!

I think about what I can do in this forum. I want to create a niche for myself, but my thoughts are scattered, everywhere and nowhere at once. I continue to ponder but first, the words. They are in the box. That’s a beginning.

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this thing

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drip drop

I haven’t found the voice that will allow me to craft a story in a way that I would feel compelling. Maybe it’s not really in my wheelhouse. Right now I scribble down this and that from the place that I know best. It’s not that I’m not interested in the world around me, on the contrary. I want to know everything, but what I’ve discovered about myself is that I’m not wired that way. I’m a generalist. I am knowledgeable around many subjects and continually seek to know more about any variety of topics that cross my path and pique my interest; constantly curious. You could view my assertion as a self serving excuse or something more but I am an intensely private person and engaging in this bloodletting is uncomfortable, as much as it is cathartic for me to set it down.  I apologize for this if you don’t really give a crap, but just pass it by if that is the case because I don’t give a crap either. This is my process, and yes this is a public forum, but I’m working on something here.

Getting on with it

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This morning I decided to go clear out my yahoo mailbox. Since i don’t use it at all I tend to find a lot of mail piled up in there, most of it duplicated in my primary mailboxes. What I do find are notifications about visits to my blogs (I have two of them), which gives me a pang of guilt because I don’t really post that much anymore though I often resolve to be a more faithful contributor to them. Really, the only reason I keep that mailbox at all is because of my flickr account. The big beast Yahoo swallowed up flickr and insists on members using their login. So there you have it.

I often think that I should merge them and that would make it a little easier for me to maintain them, but that just seems like a cop out.  You see, I want to write more and take more photos worthy of space in those blogs, but I just….don’t. My photoblog has the nifty title of a photo most everyday, which has become a complete misnomer because of my recent sloth. I do have a partial excuse, sometimes I just can’t because I am down for the count. Dizziness, nausea or the inability to see actually the screen very well completely preclude me from being able to sit in front of my computer. I thought having an ipad and not having to sit on an uncomfortable (but beautiful vintage) chair would help, but then my excuse is that I don’t like having to tap out my spinning thoughts two or three fingers at a time. Truth is, when my body allows and the inertia lifts I run around like a maniac, making busy doing other things.

There’s a pang between my shoulder blades right now. When I first opened up this window (because RaynaLele liked a picture on the other blog) I was attempting to sit on a ball to write, but then I discovered what I already knew, that the ball was too low for me too do that. I should have gotten the largest size but then it would have been too big for its intended purpose, which, well, completely defeats the purpose.

So thank you to those people who remind me of these pastimes that are important to me however much I neglect them. I am both inspired and prodded by your praise.

i wonder wonder wonder

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i’ve got, count ’em, 10 drafts sitting and gathering dust, haunting me. i see them every time i launch my dashboard. 10 posts i stopped writing for whatever reason. 10 posts i didn’t have the guts to post. 10 posts where i just ran out of words or just didn’t have the heart to finish and post out in the world at large. some are very personal, but i’ve tread into sensitive territory before, letting my ass hang out there without proclivity. for some reason with a couple of these posts i simply just didn’t. now, after some time has passed i feel like i can’t, even though they aren’t time sensitive. and now what to do? do i put my nose to it, finish them and put them up or give up on them entirely and delete them?

the last of those posts i started today and i think i just won’t get to the end of that one either, but i am not inclined to do anything about it just yet. i’ll make up excuses. i’ll say to myself that it’s silly or pointless, that my to-do list tells me i’ve got a million other things to do, that my shoulder is beginning to ache (which is absolutely true) and i need to get off of this chair for a spell, or i’ll just not do anything about it until a morning like today where i will open it read it and ponder it some more.  the great canadian novel isn’t going to get written this way, but then how would i beat myself up for being such a procrastinator or gutless wonder?

i suppose i should i feel accomplished that i did write this contribution and post it, a whining, driveling addition. it’s something, even if it’s not very much. i did, however, take this picture recently. this counts as something, right? it’s completely unrelated and irrelevant insofar as this post is concerned, but it’s kinda pretty.

Gathering dust

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I noticed when I finally ventured back onto my blog i got caught up in relearning how to navigate it, instead of diving in and out after posting a picture, which was my intention. I saw that I had 4 ancient drafts just sitting there. I didn’t read them to see if they were compelling to me months later, I  just noticed that they exist. I’ve also got at the least the same amount of illegible scribblings in a notebook I carry with me and a couple letters sitting on my mac’s desktop. There’s also the flashes I carry in my head that fire off at all hours of the day. I used to beat myself up for not writing, which I claim to hold as a passion of mine. Clearly a passion of mine I ignore.

I see now that it’s not that I don’t write, it’s just that I suffer from a paralyzing procrastination. I am like a dragster, taking off from the starting line, but the problem is I don’t get to the finish line. I ruminate and contemplate the words to an inch of their existence and then I just……stop. As if the impetus for the writing has passed and I am simply out of writing gas. One day I’ll gather up all these words and see what they amount to, but for the moment I just let them collect where I leave them and gather dust while I decide what to do anything with them if anything.

room to write

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on the front of the book it says it is the “ideal writer’s companion” by the author of the artist’s way. which strangely enough is another creative driven book i owned and did nothing with. i don’t know about the value of this book as a “writer’s companion” since i’ve not truly explored in between the covers.  what I do know is that i bought it at a garage sale or thrift shop with optimism in  my heart.

i hoped it would make me a better writer, a spinner of stories more compelling or would at the very least get me to a place of writing consistently. unfortunately, all i’ve done with this book is move it from place to place. the story might be in how many dwellings and on how many shelves has it has rested. it has made its way across canada three times and survived a lot of aggressive culling to remain as part of my current small collection of books. i suppose that says something of its value or strength of my latent intention.

i actually cracked the book a few days ago, out of some strange compelling curiosity. clearly a curiosity i’ve lacked for a good long time. i found that something has been spilled on the book; a creeping coffee coloured stain mars  pages of the introduction, lingering into the first chapter.  an ancient paper hallmark bookmark tucked between the pages shouts the chance to win $100,000. clearly i didn’t win. it’s from 1998. that tells you how long i’ve had the book. it had to be the impetus for the original idea of starting this blog, which i maintained rather faithfully for a good long while with varying degrees of personal success. like any number of  projects i’ve taken on and dropped.

i am going to write as directed from this book, chapter by chapter, and see where it takes me. i’ll have infinitely more posts than i have for a long while. that should set me on my way or shut  me up. one or the other.

press play

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drafts of posts are starting to pile up in my box. i know why. it’s a complicated thing, but then again it’s very simple. i am striving for perfection which almost never comes to pass. and while i am crafting this thing for human consumption i am stricken by the most paralyzing procrastination which is tied into my need to be validated by compliments and positive strokes.

but, let’s face it, this almost never happens. people are too busy, there are niche blogs of specific interest, blogs written by authors of exquisite eloquence and all manner of distraction and shiny, baubly things. so when i toss my 2 cents out into the void i don’t fret about it too much once i’ve hit the “publish” button. because then i’ve committed to it finally being done. i’ve finished it. besides, if i suffer from some sort of writers’ remose i can always claw it back and throw it into my virtual garbage can.

so why agonize so over verbiage and words that most people will never read? that’s me. that’s just me being me. i gotta stop that. a few words are better than none. in the same way a few squats and a walk around the block is better than staying on the couch. so here you go, another couple cents from me.

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