I Walk Alone

So, I'm in a mood. I want to write, but I'm finding nothing but that solid brick wall that most of us in the profession lovingly refer to as "writer's block." To be honest, to me it sounds like somthing hard to bang your head against to shake the ideas loose. It is not. Its more like a huge void of nothing that comes off the blank page and threatens to swallow you whole, churning you in a ceaseless washer that scrubs your brain blank and sings a song that sounds something like this: "you suck, you suck, you suck, give up, give up, give up." Now, the appropriate response of any true writer is to buckle down and write anyway, telling that nasty washer to go eff itself.

I'm trying to do that. I really am.

So I'm hanging out here, in my little plastic castle, and trying to think of what exactly I want to do with the blank page next. Until that time comes, I'm blogging, because blogging is writing, even if it isn't my novel, and honestly, as long as I keep writing, I keep reminding myself that there is a book to be written and I won't forget about it. I've even left myself a helpful little post-it right below where my eyes go at the bottom of the screen reading "write damnit!"

I'll write.

Until then, here we are. You get useless bits of nothing that I may or may not do something with if the moment presents itself.

A collection of random thoughts to follow...

Did you ever look at someone in the reflection of the light of the television and suddenly see them in a completely distoted or strange way? I'm actually a firm believer in not having a television in the bedroom for this reason. I used to, in fact, for most of my adult life I did. Now I do not, and I'm glad for it. Likewise, I do not have a computer in my bedroom. Right now that has more to do with the fact that we don't have room and I don't have a laptop. But I think I'd like to keep it that way. Despite the fact that sometimes I would very much like to have all of my playlists at my fingertips ends in the bedroom, I'd like to keep the bedroom from ever being associated with work, and lets face it, if I am ever a successful writer, I'm going to associate the computer with work.

I've been dying for spring weather lately. I think this is a result of the warmer weather we've been having, but its strange for me. I generally don't care for warm sunny weather. I like the milder, cloudier fare most days. Even in the spring and summer I am more likely to enjoy a rainy day than I am to enjoy a sunny one. Chalk that up to my fair complexion or my aversion to being hot, I'm not sure...However, as of late, there isn't much more that I want than a soft quilt, some thick, green grass and a mild sunny day in the upper seventies. I want to grab some water, a cooler stocked full of berries and cheese and fresh bread and a good book. I want to take off my shoes and prance through the grass in a way that I'm sure rather indicates that I am unused to running barefoot through it, but wouldn't be averse to getting used to the feeling of it at all.

I want a pair of leather pants. I'm not sure why, but I was thinking about this earlier in the day. I have no where to wear them, I don't go clubbing anymore, and god knows what I would wear with a pair of leather pants, but I do want a pair. I nice, tight, tailored pair. Black, I think. This is probably a compulsion brought on by an odd bout of admiration for my own body, I'm not sure. Every now and again I'll get itno a mood and think I'm pretty cute. I wouldn't even say I feel that way now, but I like my legs pretty well and I think they'd look cute in a pair of leather pants.

I've realized Ihaven't posted any new pictures of myself here or on facebook in a while, and I keep thinking I might need to do that. If only for my own peace of mind, because honeslty, I'm rather sick of looking at old pictures of me that really look nothing like me anymore. In thinking of this, I also remember that I was looking at a picture taken of me on Kitten and I's honeymoon thismorning, and my hair was only just past my shoulders. In two years its reached down the center of my back. I keep wondering when I'm going to cut it, but every time Ifeel the compulsion I remind myself that I look like Harry Potter with short hair and if I cut it any length between my shoulders and where it is now, I'll just be bitter I cut it. So it keeps growing. Of course, I live in fear of having that long hair that most people look at and think "that looks gross, why doesn't she cut it or do something with it" so I have to make sure it looks nice when I am wearing it down, which isn't often given I work so much. In the mornings, nothing is more daunting than the thought of taking the time to blow dry my hair and straiten it before I go to work. I just don't like getting up that early. Most days, its in a bun. I should probably change that, since it makes me look like a rather mousy, if severe librarian.

I'm really vain.

We've been batting around the idea of where we would like to go on vacation next year, and it was looking like we were going to go dog sledding, but then the idea of a dude ranch came up and that does sound rather fun. Also, I know more about how to ride a horse than I do about how to make a dog pull a sled. Educational, both...but what would be more relaxing? Of course, I would be delighted to take off and go back to Portland, but since we're planning on moving there, it seems more like I shouldn't choose that as a vacation desitnation again. Of course, I think going to the grand canyon would be fun. I love the idea of Hawaii but that involves planes and me risking getting poisoned by fish at every restaurant we eat at, so maybe not. I also want to go backto Disney world, but lets face it, I should probably save that one for our 5th or 10th anniversary. (By the way, random thought, did you know Kodak is filing for bankruptcy? They print all the disney maps...) So, no certain answer there. Honestly, I think I could probably justlet the girls decide and be happy wherever we go.

Yeah...so that's some of the silly things running through my head at the moment. Nothing important, or terribly literary I'm afraid.

There's some images I've been batting around in my head, though whether or not they're meant for writing or just because I'm the way I am I'm unsure of.

I like the thought of hands. The fingertips especially. In my mind I see a pair of hands playing together, trasing eachother. I see one set of fingers pinching the tips of the others, before folding softly into the other hand. I like the curve of the ends of the finger, the way the nails look on a pair of hands that have been roughened by work. I like hands that aren't entirely soft, but rather ones that are textured and have character. I like the look of hands at work ,whether they are on a computer or doing something more tactile. I like the way they look. I like how they make me feel. Of course, the thought of the hand and the fingers make me think of touching, not in a sexual way, but rather just as a way of communication, of telling someone you are there, that you love them, that you know they need you, or that they are special and important in some way.

i've been obsessed with smiles lately. I like the curve of lips. I like how a smile can mean so many things. I like that one smile can mean love, when the other one might mean disdain or mocking. I like the idea of a smile communicsating more than just happiness, but understanding, compassion or humor. I like how people smile differently. Some smile with their teeth, some smile with one side of their mouth only. Some never show teeth at all. I like how a set of full lips thins out when a person smiles, or how a set of thin lips becomes almost nothing but a pale pink line. Yes, smiles are nice indeed...

Oh, my, I do know how to ramble don't I?

I think I've hit upon something though, so I must run out on you, and find my ramble elsewhere...

By the by...if there's ever anything you would like me to write about, an emotion, a feeling, an experience...anything really, I'm always looking for fodder for a good story...

AGxx