Tag: Writing

Why write

It is 11:38am. I am still on the apartment. I have had a weird headache all morning. I took some medicine but it hasn’t helped much. Thinking about writing. What do I write for? What do I hope to accomplish? I have all day to get something done. But I have tried in the past and nothing materialized. Add writing to the pile of things I want a new perspective on.

Writing

5:36am Thursday when I write it is like taking a picture. It is one single moment Frozen. The emotions before and after that moment are swirling. A post like this pulls one thread from my thoughts, puts it on display and says “here is what I am thinking.” However even as I write I am aware of what I don’t say. All the other thoughts, threads and emotions. If I could capture what my mind is doing right now the narrative would be lost. Words would be jumbled, picture would be flashing in and out. viewpoints would instantly change. Worries would pop up then subside. I don’t stop thinking. I mull over feelings, ideas, beliefs. I push to the extreme until my ribs ache with anxiety. Then I spend hours trying to undo the knot. I write to have something for all I go through.

Keeping a journal

6:03am this morning on the walk I was trying to remember what I did on certain weekends. I couldn’t recall my activity on certain days. I thought to myself “I need to start keeping a journal and writing things down.” I got twenty feet further when I realized how funny that is. I have been writing everything down for six months.

Friday night

10:03pm I get mad at myself when I write lot of posts in one day. I don’t get upset for writing down my thoughts. I appreciate the continuity when I go back and read them. I get mad because so many posts in one day makes it tedious when I transcribe them to a word document. I like to get through a certain number of days when I transfer the posts over for publication. If a day has many posts it takes longer to accomplish the task.

Change

5:40am I don’t know how to change. How to be different. I don’t know what I would do if this blog were “discovered.” How would my world change if I received attention? I work in hospice. I have a public persona but the real me remains hidden. Writing these posts is a way to put myself out there to be discovered. But there is dissonance. The hospice director is a carefully crafted facade. It serves purpose. It is a image I use to make money and care for my family. The post writer is the inner me. He is the voice in my head. My best friend. what would I do if people at work saw these posts? What if prospective employers saw them? Family, friends. Strangers? I want more than anything to be known. I want more than anything to remain hidden.

get pulled away

I am sitting here writing and I can see how I get pulled away. It is the squares. I come up with a good idea, I right it down and then I want to flit away and not keep pressing and moving forward. I want to just bask in the emotional high that I came up with something decent then spend the rest of the day building dreams in my head about how I am going to write a million dollar book and speak to enthralled audiences.