its so cold in this little house i just want a warm bubble bath to keep the blood flowin. im afraid to go elsewhere. brrs
october leaves.
............................. the beginning
"why, i autumn"
Sunday, October 11, 2009
Saturday, October 3, 2009
here it comes: a better version of me (crossed-fingers)
back again to the talk of writer's block.
i'm not even journaling with pen and paper. not daily. hardly ever.
i've offered a few solutions to myself:
1. i'm bored.
-i'm bored but everyday i have something to go do or someone to go meet and on and on... but none of those things thrill me. i love my friends. i live for them. hanging out.. going to lunch.. laying in parks... the occasional beers into the afternoon and long into the night... all fantastic ... but so damn boring, really. i'm not doing anything new in my life. my job has recently changed up a bit... but it's essentially doing the same thing... just doing it twice.
maybe when i am in school again i won't be so bored?
2. i don't feel so comfortable writing about myself.
-i used to write freely whether it was in a journal or somewhere on the interwebs. now, i begin writing and half way through i just don't care. and i don't see why anyone else would either. does anyone really care about some new discovery i have made today? or a thought i had about a very obvious concept. i also used to write to keep in touch with people i rarely see but i know read. most importantly those being sarah and jenna. while sarah was gone and before jenna moved back to oakland... it was my way of telling my stories. now we all see each other almost daily... the stories don't need to be shared in written word.
but its not just this blog nonsense... i would write stories (fictional and non)... poetry... and ideas.... things to remember.
then i think back to the time i was writing the most... and it is when i had a car.
i've loved not having a car for almost a year now... for monetary reasons mostly. but my car was my brain space... my moveable room. I would spend time with her everyday... going on long scenic drives around this bay area... blasting music.... and at some point stopping where there is a view and my mind would go... and i would write write write all my thoughts and fears and other silly things. my car was my freedom. somewhere to go without going anywhere.
i've got to find a substitution.
also, this time in my life when i was writing a lot.... my ticking brain and tender heart were learning a lot of things. i had to write to comprehend the many conflicting emotions i had running around my sleeve. and now that i've been schooled on loss and ache ... i am jaded... cynical... cold.
when did this happen?
i'm getting to the point where i want to delete this all and give up. but i think i'll just stop for now.
pondering pondering... where did you go ms. katielove? everyone is pondering.
i'm not even journaling with pen and paper. not daily. hardly ever.
i've offered a few solutions to myself:
1. i'm bored.
-i'm bored but everyday i have something to go do or someone to go meet and on and on... but none of those things thrill me. i love my friends. i live for them. hanging out.. going to lunch.. laying in parks... the occasional beers into the afternoon and long into the night... all fantastic ... but so damn boring, really. i'm not doing anything new in my life. my job has recently changed up a bit... but it's essentially doing the same thing... just doing it twice.
maybe when i am in school again i won't be so bored?
2. i don't feel so comfortable writing about myself.
-i used to write freely whether it was in a journal or somewhere on the interwebs. now, i begin writing and half way through i just don't care. and i don't see why anyone else would either. does anyone really care about some new discovery i have made today? or a thought i had about a very obvious concept. i also used to write to keep in touch with people i rarely see but i know read. most importantly those being sarah and jenna. while sarah was gone and before jenna moved back to oakland... it was my way of telling my stories. now we all see each other almost daily... the stories don't need to be shared in written word.
but its not just this blog nonsense... i would write stories (fictional and non)... poetry... and ideas.... things to remember.
then i think back to the time i was writing the most... and it is when i had a car.
i've loved not having a car for almost a year now... for monetary reasons mostly. but my car was my brain space... my moveable room. I would spend time with her everyday... going on long scenic drives around this bay area... blasting music.... and at some point stopping where there is a view and my mind would go... and i would write write write all my thoughts and fears and other silly things. my car was my freedom. somewhere to go without going anywhere.
i've got to find a substitution.
also, this time in my life when i was writing a lot.... my ticking brain and tender heart were learning a lot of things. i had to write to comprehend the many conflicting emotions i had running around my sleeve. and now that i've been schooled on loss and ache ... i am jaded... cynical... cold.
when did this happen?
i'm getting to the point where i want to delete this all and give up. but i think i'll just stop for now.
pondering pondering... where did you go ms. katielove? everyone is pondering.
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