Jan. 5th, 2009


Jan. 5th, 2009 03:14 am
notesinblue: (sitting alone)
Words words words. Where have you gone? It seems that every time I write something I like it cripples me for months afterwards. I look at the piece in question and feel awed and retarded. How could I ever create something that interesting again? It is as though I have convinced myself that I have a very finite reserve of brilliance and it has been depleted. In fact, it seems every time I finish something I’ve just used the very last word in my reserve tank. And yet I always find more. I have a faulty fuel gauge. I cruise around thinking I’m on empty, afraid to go anywhere for fear of ending up stranded on a deserted roadside. Except I’m driving a god damned oil tanker. I could write every day for the next one hundred years and never run dry. So then why the fear?

I need to remember something very important. It seems no matter how many times I remember it, a brilliant epiphany over and over again, I still manage to forget it anew. When I feel anxious it is usually because I feel powerless and out of control. Panic attack? Do something to regain a sense of power. Anxious? Do something. Say no, say yes. Assert yourself. Write. Take control of your day and stop floating along in the current. Seriously. I mean this. Stop. Right now. And do what you really want to do most. Stop being so concerned with every one else and whether you might fall flat on your ass or screw up. Just fucking do it. Regain a sense of strength and the tightness will fade. You can do it, but first you have to get up off of your ass and decide to actually do it. So go. Now. Because sitting on your ass skimming over these words months later while in a funk will get you nowhere. Only you have the power to do that, and trust me: that power is more vast than you ever give yourself credit.


notesinblue: (Default)

January 2013


Most Popular Tags

Page Summary

Style Credit

Expand Cut Tags

No cut tags
Page generated Sep. 26th, 2017 09:13 am
Powered by Dreamwidth Studios