*** Found this in the recesses of the Drafts section. Can't even remember if it's I who wrote this... Anyway, off you go into the wild, little post. Happy New Year to anyone still foolish enough to check this space for updates ***
The number of times I have begun trying to put down a post has been more than ably matched by the number of times I discarded the same. Having been so far removed from this habit, I think it rather presumptuous on my part to label it a 'Writer's Block'. For someone who has not posted anything in over a year all claims to this rather tenuous label 'Writer' are long forsaken.
And still I come back desperate to say something and hopeful of being heard. Even if that which is inside is not shouting itself out. Even if all I have left to convey are dull silences.
"What are you thinking?"
"Nothing"
"How can you think of nothing?!"
"It's a talent!"
And this is by now a running joke whose humorous aspect has long since run far away. And yet, I do think of nothing in the sense that I am thinking of nothingness filling my brain like ink and yet not assuming the tangible shape of a 'something'. Maybe I am thinking of 'something' disguised as 'nothing', held back only by my own lack of vocabulary for its expression
To anyone who thinks I am drunk, depressed or desolate; things could not be further from the truth. I am content, work is good, travel is hectic, my needs meet my means halfway. And yet, the human in me wants more. More time, More downtime, More facetime...
And therein lies my dilemma - of not finding the time to express the nothingness in a more meaningful way.
And still I come back desperate to say something and hopeful of being heard. Even if that which is inside is not shouting itself out. Even if all I have left to convey are dull silences.
"What are you thinking?"
"Nothing"
"How can you think of nothing?!"
"It's a talent!"
And this is by now a running joke whose humorous aspect has long since run far away. And yet, I do think of nothing in the sense that I am thinking of nothingness filling my brain like ink and yet not assuming the tangible shape of a 'something'. Maybe I am thinking of 'something' disguised as 'nothing', held back only by my own lack of vocabulary for its expression
To anyone who thinks I am drunk, depressed or desolate; things could not be further from the truth. I am content, work is good, travel is hectic, my needs meet my means halfway. And yet, the human in me wants more. More time, More downtime, More facetime...
And therein lies my dilemma - of not finding the time to express the nothingness in a more meaningful way.
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