Random blog entry #774

The following was written with the idea that I would go over it later, editing and refining it, maybe making it less stream-of-consciousness. But I didn’t. So it should be like most everything I’ve ever written here. I just wanted to add a disclaimer to say that.

 

I don’t know if I can write fiction right now. That’s the feeling that I have, that I can’t craft something appealing and meaningful while still keeping it distant and not too personal. The last point isn’t a requirement, of course, but currently I don’t feel like exposing myself more than I already have. Too many people (like two or three) that I know personally and talk to occasionally may read what I write, and my social structure is fragile enough right now that I don’t want to damage it. That’s the thought in my head, I can tell, even though I know that there hasn’t been damage done in the past when I’ve been open and vulnerable. If anything, sometimes it is better. But that doesn’t mean that the perception isn’t still there, and I just feel like whatever I wrote would boil down to being whining, needy and desperate. So I’ll just put it here instead, where some may still read it but it’s not “fiction” and I’m pretty sure at least one person won’t read it because I don’t think they know about it. Such a scared little boy…

The weird thing is, that’s complete bullshit. I’m hardly a scared little boy. I’ll kick your ass…and yours…yeah, you too. C’mon; bring it on. So maybe this has nothing to do with writing. Writing is the scapegoat. Using it as my topic allows me to introduce a notion which you probably don’t get yet, and which I’m not going to explain to you, but it’s something constantly swimming around in my psyche and my retort to it is: Fuck you! Okay, so what it is … it’s a cloak I hide behind. It’s a habit. It’s something I’ve always done. It’s saying “I don’t know” and then continuing on to answer or state something, showing that I do actually know, but somehow the disclaimer beforehand release me from all liability if you don’t like what I’m saying. I fucking well do know. And some people get to see that in me, and once in a while I do.

I want to blame our society. I want to say that it’s what we learn growing up: that some things are good and some things are bad; that we should do certain things to be successful and if we don’t then we are achieving less than we could, than we should; and maybe there’s a personality or character underneath that we’re born with or we somehow develop, I don’t know, that gets this framework built by society laid on top of it, and that framework ends up fettering us and keeping us from behaving as we would naturally. I started all of this out by saying “I want to…” which is another disclaimer, a way of making what I say less harsh somehow.

The funny thing is, I have this idea about natural behavior, survival of the fittest, and the way some of the ancient Greeks used to think about the strong taking what is theirs. I don’t like that type of behavior. I see it in modern times as an integral part of our corporate, capitalist structure, and the attitude that lead so many to despise the rich, the politicians, the greedy crooks of Enron and others who just haven’t been caught. So I don’t believe in what Ayn Rand wrote about in Atlas Shrugged. Anyway, what is the real value of gaining power, of being driven and successful, of being a mover and a shaker? I guess you could take the question to the next level and ask what really brings people happiness, what is “worth it” in this life, and if there is anything after it.

I don’t know if any of this will make sense to anyone else, or even to me later on. It may not be cohesive enough, but I’ve written plenty here that isn’t. The funny thing is, I could be a hell of a mover and a shaker if I chose to. I’d be a terror. But I’ve never had the inclination. Sure, I used to think I wanted to be rich and be able to afford all sorts of fast cars, but I realize that doesn’t really matter anymore. One thing that always comes up in my brain, though, is that maybe I really am ruthless, amoral, and a perfect match for the type of person I describe (at least in my head), but I’m just too scared or timid or something to let it show. My ex saw it in me and liked it, but she’s a lot more one of those people than I appear to be. It does feel good to wear the clothes, though–to step into that role once in a while, as needed, and have the power to own a situation, to take control. Yet I rebel against it so…

Every time I try to start writing, I am distracted and discouraged. My email inbox calls my name, even though there’s nothing there waiting for me. I have an idea that I think is clever or funny while riding the bus, or walking down the street as I see a unique human interaction, and I want to write about it, but I’m doomed for failure because I feel that nothing I write is clever enough. I nearly stopped in the middle of my last sentence because I couldn’t describe “a unique human interaction” in any more detail or in a more clever way, making use of metaphor and allusion, or least setting a scene and ensuring that I “show, don’t tell”.

Perhaps I’m in the middle of an existential crisis. I’m balancing on the line separating reality from fantasy, and the choice forced upon me determines how I live the rest of my life, or how I answer questions about my life. If I choose reality over fantasy (and perhaps reality should be set apart by quotation marks here), it feels as if it will require an entire reworking of my values, my belief system, and of my personality. Gone are the days of believing in old movies, believing that Cary Grant was really so smooth and that love can be so romantic and ideal; gone the days of believing that life is more than just a job one works at to get by and survive, and one’s life is what one does in one’s free time, yet even then (believing in that) there is a certain disappointment that things aren’t quite what one had hoped for; gone the days of believing in the inherent good of people (?), instead choosing to believe that morality is relative and that life is bound the be the way it is, with certain elements of “good” and “bad” inherently a part of humanity and completely unavoidable (?); and gone the days of believing that it truly matters a great deal who one votes for, what organizations like Greenpeace and the Peace Corps do, the idea that each individual can make a difference and humanity is not just one gigantic juggernaut wherein an individual’s actions make the whole deviate from its course one iota.

Have I wrapped too many elements, too many varieties of “realism”, up together and made it difficult for anyone to stomach my definition? Perhaps, but only because we each live our lives somewhere in the in-between, not able to fully commit to one extreme or the other, but equally able to ridicule anyone who doesn’t reside in the particular state we are in, whose world is at a different point along the reality-fantasy continuum.

To return to my original point, I’m not able to churn out anything creative or humorous or life-affirming. Even when I have plenty of material, plenty of things to start with and expand into whatever they choose to become, I am unable to invest myself in it and truly believe that it matters or will be worthwhile. And so not being able to commit to my former world of fantasy leaves me unable to spin a tale, and yet I’m not ready to commit to what some might realism, and not able to create anything that might contribute. Instead, I offer this, whatever the world might judge it to be. At least it is probably in line with what I set out to do with this blog, but no one should have to suffer it.

Evil bastards

I’ve been reading a lot lately, mostly online. Following a few blogs and clicking links they put up that lead to other interesting things. It’s like following the rabbit down the hole and into another world, but then there’s another hole, and, rabbit or no, it’s tempting to dive in. So I’m going to post more things i find interesting here. I already posted a few links on Your Daily Adventure. I just read something I thought was really worthwhile and insightful, so I’m putting a link to it here, and maybe I’ll have more than just the one before the night is through.

• Kerry Cohen lives in Portland, OR, has an MFA in creative writing and an MA in counseling psychology, she wrote a book or two and wrote this great posting on the Powell’s Book blog. Oh, and if you don’t click on the link, at least know that she is reading at Powell’s on Wednesday at 7:30.

• Didn’t read this online originally, but it’s interesting. It’s about Google. Obviously, there’s a bit of a spin from the author to make it read a certain way and be entertaining, but it makes one think. At least it made me. Made me think about how maybe the real evil bastards in the world society might be the CEOs, board members and all higher-ups of big corporations. Or at least maybe we should look into what’s happening and what the future holds a little more by examining what’s happening at that level and not just worrying about the Kim Jong-il’s and Saddam Hussein’s of the world. Oh yeah, I used Google’s search engine to look up proper spellings.

Ok, I’m done.