Those Two Little Words

...I want to live in fire
with all those tastes I desire...
--Apocalyptica, Path Vol 2--

Dear web journal, readers and browsers,

Hello.

I know it's been awhile since I wrote to you, but I would like to explain, or try to anyway. I have thought about you a lot, but when it came time to write down what I thought about I felt anxiety/fear and looked for something easy to do and told myself, "Self, don't worry, you'll write tomorrow." (I really did say that) And two weeks have gone by! Where has the time gone? There is no other way to explain this so I'll just say it. I'm afraid.

When you get right down to it I am afraid. I am crippled by fear. Fear of success, fear of failure, fear of what others might think, or not think, fear fear fear... Until finally my logical brain says, "now wait a minute here, this fear stuff can't be good because you haven't written a damn thing. So, stop it."

I love my logical brain, but sometimes it clicks on or off at the wrong time, too soon, too late, or at all. I can't help it though. It would just be cool if it turned on when I needed it to, you know? Like 2 weeks ago when I told myself I'd just write tomorrow, which I said the next day and the next and the next.

Anyway, now that I have that out of the way it feels good to be here, sitting, typing, listening to music, drinking coffee. Already I am happy with the way my brain is dealing with writing. It's as though it needs an outlet, creative or otherwise. And by not writing it just talks to itself all day, which is probably bad for my mental health.

I started work last week at the Tire Company job that I've had for 6 years now. I simply got transferred out here (in Kalamazoo Michigan) to this location so I had a job to go to. It was essential to moving out here because of all the 50 states I read and heard that Michigan was hit the hardest with unemployment, lay offs, et al.

It's a strange thing, although strange isn't the right word, but the one that came quickest to mind. In California there is money everywhere as denoted by things. People have nice cars, nice houses, nice clothes and expensive accessories for all those things. But here people are struggling to afford gas, clothes and food, much less tires. I have seen some Californian houseless people (most commonly referred to as homeless people, but home is a state of mind--these people need houses.) who were better off than some Michiginian homeowners. That is a sad state of affairs.

Spellcheck wants me to change Michiginian to Michigander which is the official term, I think. I refuse to use it though. Using "Michigander" is a sure sign of integration which I am not too hot on right now. I am currently experiencing some nostalgia for California. One of the many differences between here and there: I call soda 'Soda' while Michiginians call soda 'pop.' The first few times Ive been asked what kind of pop I want it always sets me back and I wonder just what it is the waitress is asking me. At first I said, "You mean soda right?" and she responded, "You're from California, huh?" and I understood how arrogant I must have sounded trying to correct her words. The same words she has been using for 22 years. I don't know how old she is, but I guess she is 21-22. It doesn't matter though.

Another thing, this should be up around paragraph one or two, but another thing about my writing: About that anxiety, I'd think of things to write about all day at work--which is a place I can zone out in, and flip on autopilot so to speak, that allows my brain to wander anywhere it likes, while my body does the job with a minuscule amount of mental input. And before I know it, it's time to go home. It's a really sweet thing, for 11 hours to flash by so quickly. What was I talking about again?

Anxiety. Yeah, so then after my brain has been off in wonderland doing its own thing I say, "I can't wait to share this with my web journal." And I get excited, and rush home and shower, and eat, the whole time my internal soliloquy going on and on about what wondrous things await me at the keyboard. And then it happens. I sit down at the computer, click on new post, look at the new black field (I invert my colors when I write so the text is white), and wonder what a good opening line would be. When that fails I think about what I'm going to talk about. When I don't know what the structure of what I'm writing will be I look at my e-mail and respond to whats there, but only briefly because as I tell them, "I got writing to do." Then I go back to the new post screen and think about all the cool things I have to say, want to say, NEED to say, and I get completely locked up in the fear that unless I can find the right way that best expresses what I'm thinking I shouldn't even try because it will never be as good, or clear as it is in my head. So I end up thinking about how to write about what I want to write about instead of writing it down.

Today I sat down to type and I started to wonder how to best write this until I remembered three important phrases or quotes I use in life. The first....well ok I kind of lied there. I only had one thought/phrase that started this and the others came later. The first thought I had when I was sitting there wondering how to start, what to say, how to structure it, etc, was: Fuck It. That started it. Isn't it great when you can rationalize or start any behavior by that little phrase? Those two little words. This post brought to you today by those two little words btw.

The other two quotes go like this: "Don't fear failure. — Not failure, but low aim, is the crime. In great attempts it is glorious even to fail."

and

"Cease negative mental chattering. — If you think a thing is impossible, you'll make it impossible. Pessimism blunts the tools you need to succeed."

Can you guess who said that? I couldn't. It was Bruce Lee.

Anyway now that I have released the flood gates I can make a habit out of writing again.

Stupid fear.