The day I started this blog I was so amped. Beyond amped. I was crawling out of my skin. There could be seen an awful lot of knuckle cracking and head rolling and other physical symbols of a Here-We-Go mindset. I may have even mulled over shouting from rooftops.
In approximately 2 hours I created, organized and released the blog to the Great and Powerful Web, wrote my first post, and began planning the ways to make my mark on the writing world with just a keyboard and my musings. I went to bed that night certain that every day I would open my laptop and write; positive that every day I would update the website that I had nicknamed in my head “The Spark” (as in, the spark that would light the fire under my ass to get my future started); absolutely convinced that this here blog was the beginning of something great. The very next day I impressed myself by writing two more posts back-to-back, which only solidified my opinion that I was ready to stop cruising and, proverbially, get it in gear.
That was 3 months ago.
I didn’t mean to backslide. I did open my laptop the next day, ready to compose. But the little bi-otch didn’t want to connect to the Internet. Or the next day. Or the next. I considered using a different computer, like, oh, the other laptop two feet away. But that one belongs to my boyfriend, and even though my thoughts, once posted, would be free for the world to read and judge and bash, I hated the idea of storing my writing on someone else’s computer. It’s too personal to save my thoughts on someone else’s hard drive. So (allow me to personify for a moment) I waited for my computer to pull its head out of its ass. It never did. And I let myself slide for so long that I fell off the map.
Until today, March 12, 2011, the day that shall henceforth be known as The Day Pam Pulled Her Head Out of Her Ass.
What’s worse, someone opening one of your files that’s saved on their computer and reading it or NO ONE reading your writing because you’re not fucking writing at all? I finally answered that question.
After a productive morning– the sort where you’ve got a great surge of energy no amount of caffeine or sugar could induce–I experienced that uncanny shiver of déjà vu. In an instant I realized that the last time I felt so accomplished, so excited to being living and doing rather than simply sitting back and observing was the wonderful day I decided to put myself out there for the world to read. I stopped writing, not because of my pathetic excuse for a computer but because I’ve been making excuses to myself so subtly that weeks went by and I hardly noticed. “The View From Limbo” would pop into my head and I’d push it back into the depths of my mind with the child traumas and embarrassing moments. I was so afraid to put my heart and my time into something and possibly fail that I never even tried enough to make it to failing: I simply…fizzled.
This could still be the spark if I don’t let it go out again. Here’s to fanning the flames.