drifting

Try as I might, my relationship with blogging has certainly lost its verve for the past several months. I vow I will do better, I get a shot in the arm, I go read everyone and feel enhanced and better for the experience, and then I let the writing and reading thing lapse for another week or two.

I suppose this is natural. Life gets in the way. I don’t know if that’s exactly what’s happening- or if I’m just distracting myself from tasks with other things, or what. I do know, when I read those things I managed to write in the last few weeks, I think, “My holy hell I’ve gotten boring on here.”

I have. Life itself hasn’t been particularly down or depressing, but it seems the times I feel the urge to write on here often coincide with moments of depression. I guess that makes sense in a way: If you’re feeling all happy and twitterpated, or soaring, or the moon looks really cool or something, you probably aren’t going to take a lot of time to write about it.

At least I don’t. I insist though, things are good here. No,- it’s not just that. Things are sort of balanced around here. And with balance, my well established patterns of writing are kind of thrown off course. Cus this whole blog writing thing was born out of a sort of desperately unhappy time, and then it became a wonderful tool both to connect and work through things I really felt the need to work through. And now I don’t feel like I’m careening through highs and lows, I feel… pretty happy a lot, content a lot, and mildly depressed sometimes. I’ve hit the middle values.

That isn’t a bad thing. But it might mean a different approach. I begin to understand the call for organization, structure, stuff I chafe against. Why should I have a routine? Why should I do stuff when I’m not feeling it? I’ve written so wonderfully in fits of passion, anger, sadness, lust. Why?

Well, cus I need this place.

Still. And in a weird way, all the parts of blogging create one big entity, that sort of feels, over the last several months, like a neglected friend. It’s really great, Alissa, that you’re feeling more whole and desiring the outlets that have sustained you less, but don’t forget what got you there. There’s been times I felt there was nothing of me except the ability to put one word and then another down. Times the only reason to keep coping and trying with the ugly, frustrating outer life, was cus there was that lit up part that could build worlds within. Worlds to escape to; worlds to bridge out with. Worlds to invite and explore other people and feel safe.

Now those worlds need me, in a way. If that part is to keep going, it kinda needs to be sustained in the context of everything else. Hafta make a spot for it. And it is still important to me- this place. Writing. Having that ability alive inside- it sort of reminds me of something I read of Pueblo Native American culture. They passed on the ability to build houses out of the earth, houses they could leave behind because the material wasn’t the point; the point was having the knowledge which they carried in their very hands.

No matter where I go, no matter what happens, I carry this. I can have nothing and still build a world, a thought, an idea- still meet people in that space behind the eyes, in that circular protective membrane around the heart. I can be lost but I always have a home, if I have this: If I can write.

So I need it. I’m just figuring out how to make the pieces fit right now.

Thank you for your continued presence in this space.

-Amuirin

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13 thoughts on “drifting

  1. I think a lot of blogging is inspired by restlessness, unhappiness, unfulfilled-ness. And when things change, it’s important to find that balance. You’ll figure it out. I have faith. :-)

  2. Your words are so often our thoughts, even now. We weebles have all had times we had to force words onto the blog, but we did it, as you have. Why? Because this space, these words, this connection is important. The blog world is still in its infancy, so lacking history, we go on feelings. I think something greater is being built in these virtual worlds. How virtual is it really, though, when we have real people behind the thoughts?

    You just hang in there in the good place that is your “real” world right now and don’t sever your connection to your weeble world. We’re here for you whatever your mood.

  3. I find it hard to get motivated. That’s why I keep my stuff to three lines and recycle a lot. Sometimes I can’t even get three lines. So, I know what you’re going through. Glad you’re happy and content, though. That’s the important thing.

  4. Just keep cycling back. (I see you on a tricycle, madly circling around a track, wearing socks like Robin’s. So serious, and so funny.) It bothers me to drift for too long too far away from my blog, and yours, and others. And my most moving writing has come from my most painful times. I don’t want to dive back into that pain but I do want that aliveness. The pain went on for so long that I built up mountain reserves of words. Mad, uncut, unpolished jumbled piles that still glitter and gleam and some that snarl from inside the tangle, too. So I’ll have things to do in me old age. Whenever I feel restless, or dry, I can pull something out and see what I can make with it. I think I’ll maybe do that now. Check back tomorrow. Love, Rick

  5. It’s weird. I write when I AM balanced. When I’m depressed I withdraw. When I’m unhappy I find things to make me happy. Reading, re-reading a favorite book, watching a movie, re-watching a favorite movie, play video games….I guess I try to loose myself in entertainment. Shutting down that part of my brain that makes me care about whatever it is that’s bothering me.

    That being said I guess that’s why I couldn’t really write during my trips overseas. I was never, truly, balanced. It’s also why I haven’t written anything major the last 6 months.

    I almost wish it was the other way around. Writing would, more than likely, be more beneficial than loosing myself for hours on end in a video game, or staying up to watch just one more episode of Angel. It would be a way to pour out my frustrations instead of bottling them up, but I just can’t seem to find the words. The structures of sentences that adequately describe my pain and torment. I use to try but I’d end up with three sentences on a sheet of paper and couldn’t go any further. I would usually burn that sheet and that kinda helped, seeing the problems written down slowly smolder out of existence hoping that the real problems would disappear sympathetically. Like poking a doll of your boss with a pin. While it’s rather childish it still kinda makes you feel better, but not much, because all it takes is another reaming or memo to remind you how much you dislike the guy/gal.

    (grrrrr) 262 words seem like a lot for a comment.

  6. Actually, Rao, I was reading that and thinking how awesome it was that you took the time to be responsive, and put down how it is from your perspective. I love it when you do that. I wish I was more responsive. The more a comment makes me think, or feel, sometimes the more likely I am to be quiet for awhile. Like I’m not always sure how to do people’s thoughts justice.

    But don’t give a to the word count. Your impressions are well worth reading to me.

    Rick Mobbs- *smiles* Yep, cycling back. Do you ever wonder what it is that prompts us to write what we write? With all the possibilities- it isnt random, sometimes the slant of your thoughts can be revealing, even to you. I’m really glad you’ve been around again, btw. Hope it continues for a good long while.

    Robin- Me 2, You.

    mad- I actually think it would be harder to be fresh over and over again with three lines then when writing a lot. With lots of words, it seems more okay to repeat certain themes. Not so much with haiku. It’s like… writing condensed. You almost hafta recreate the whole feeling every single time.

    anhinga- Your comment here was a good example. You wrote something so generous, and it was heartfelt so I can only muster a big smile and express real gratitude that you’re there and you find my thoughts worth reading. Thanks.

    David- Yeah, though the time-frame for figuring it out might be a little… y’know. lackadaisacal. ;) Your faith is pretty potent stuff, though, so I’m pretty sure I’ll live up to it.

  7. I left a little ditty for you here

    http://rickmobbs.wordpress.com/2009/07/18/song-for-amuirin/

    nothing to be taken personally, just something that was sticking out of that mountain of stuff I mentioned earlier, asking for some attention.

    Melancholy, desire, a line that jumps into my head from I know not where, these things prompt me to write. The knowledge that I am writing myself into existence, out of a dark hole, into a life of more possibilities prompts me to write. Knowing that if I don’t write I’ll die, I’ll hang shoot explode split myself down the middle blow myself up throw myself under a truck or into a volcano or spit in the eye of a cop… that kinda prompts me to write sometimes.

    But there is more to your question than that. I’ll go get some ice cream and think about it. Glad you’re glad I’m back. I’m trying to stay back. But writing also dredges stuff up from the bottom that maybe could have stayed there.. but no, that ain’t right. I don’t want to go through life knowing something is down there and not looking at it. I have to look at it. The sticking part is sharing it. Sometimes I feel like I don’t have good sense about what I do and don’t share.

  8. I’ve been thinking of this post for the past few days thinking I want to respond and tell her I know exactly how she feels. I want to tell her and the other weebles I feel the same way and currently it seems like I only post once every couple of weeks because I don’t have the time or simply can’t figure out how to say what I’ve got in my head.

    But I couldn’t quite find the time or what to write so I’ll just say, “hi, amuirin. glad you’re still here in Blogland. Will you do another spoken word thing. I ♥ your voice.”

  9. rick mobbs- I liked it very much. And your last line- I think all of us (especially here) feel that way sometimes. Part of good writing is being brave, sticking your neck out, and sometimes risking what’s appropriate for what’s important. That can be kinda scary.

    jules- *grins* well, how could I say no to that?

  10. Hey Am – I just wanted to say I’m glad you’ve found that place for yourself where the peaks and valleys aren’t so steep or swinging quickly from one to the other. You’re in ‘the zone’ it seems – hooray!

    Sometimes life does get in the way but I value the relationships built through blogging so I’ll always be coming back for more and writing what & when I can. (Whether mine is any good or particularly interesting is another story altogether.)

    Keep at it, darlin’.

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