I don't know what it is, but every time I come here to write something that was just on my mind, or barely on the tip of my tongue, I either forget what it was that I wanted to communicate with my small readership, or I freeze, afraid that I can't correctly communicate what I want to write. Or I suddenly lose all my energy, too lazy to find links, quotes, and pictures, too weary to reword an awkward sentence, an unruly paragraph.
My mind can't comprehend why this is happening to me. Why do I go through spurts of writing like a madwoman, passionate, articulate, contemplative. And then suddenly. I'm a ghost, my fingers brush the keyboard, but my screen remains blank. Even at this very moment, the only way I can possibly write this post is because I've closed my eyes...literally, I'm physically closing my eyes, because if I look at what I'm writing, it slows me up, and it inhibits my thoughts, my emotions....what I am trying to convey. I get caught up in the verbage, my tone of voice, my grammar, my punctuation. Perfection slows me down. The longer I have shrunk back from writing...anything, a post, a journal entry, a letter...the worse it gets, the more confidence I lose in my writing and I forget my passion. There are so many things I want to say, but sometimes I am held up by what others may think of me and my opinion--I need to remind myself that my opinion is exactly that: my opinion. If someone disagrees, who cares?
On a side note, why the heck did anyone think it was a good idea to hold the Olympic Games in China, let alone in Beijing? Can you say, "Doh!"? I mean, I can understand maybe something slightly less aerobic, like a chess tournament, or a spelling bee (?), but come on...running, huffing, puffing, panting...in toxic smog thick as pea soup? Not to mention in a communist country...but that's another story.
Another side note. I'm sick of hearing about Barack Obama. Okay, okay...so he's the liberal media's darling. He's great in front of a teleprompter, you listen to him, and your knees start to give, you get a little chill up your spine, and your heart starts racing. He's a rock star. You hear is voice and drool uncontrollably. You forget your own thoughts, and next you're chanting "Yes, we can!" Ah, but you're not at a rally...you're watching Hardball with Chris Matthews, eating half-warmed leftover Mexican food out of a Styrofoam to-go box on your well-worn leather sofa. Oh, wait...maybe it wasn't you drooling, that was Matthews. 'My bad. Oh, but darling, my darling, can't you see? Obama is another politician...of rock star proportions. I'm done. Move on. There's got to be something else to report on. There's just GOT to be...
Last side note. Go see Swing Vote. Yeah, that one with Kevin Costner, George Lopez, et al. I just saw it this evening, not knowing what to expect, leaving the theatre pleasantly surprised. I'm not going to give anything away just yet. Just go see it. This weekend. Yes, you. Do it.
And this concludes this session of mindless rambling. Tune in next time...
Cross-posted on The Celebrity.Posted by Cydney at August 07, 2008 11:39 PM | Email This