Once upon a time I was a writer. I poured ideas into the internet like coffee from a carafe. I was all about the idea. I wanted to fill notebooks with the thoughts I had and the stories I could write and then I wanted to fill webpages with the stories people should hear and see and the games they could develop off these ideas. It started to die off with the dumpshock forums and got worse the more I wrote for the Shadowrun game I loved so much. At first I thought the well of ideas was drying up because I was running out of ideas. Some of that is true. Some of it is fatigue. Most of it is laziness and the changes largely triggered by the changes in my body composition. I write best when I feel best and have the wealth of energy to do so. I also write best when I allow myself to be in a position to care about writing and being healthy and accepting love first and foremost in my life.
Where I went wrong was thinking that I didn’t have the energy to do any of that. Deep down I think I knew the idea archive was my green ring, and I think that a lot of my writing impotence as of late has to do with this failure to constantly generate new ideas; it represents a failure to take advantage of the world happening around me and cultivate that into idea. In many ways it also represents me getting involved in the petty politics and elementary school level emotional drama of the workplace. This last bit of self awareness is a dramatic shift away from the guy who wanted to be everybody’s friend and spent the majority of his time doing so. I’m a writer and teacher, so that is where my hours need to go.
Some Thoughts:
- I’m starting to like this cat. Pity she has to go. The allergies are far too much of an issue to have her remain a part of the family. The boys have to come first.