Inspiration, anyone? Tieing lines?

Alright Hobbits, Muppets & wonderful creatures of all kinds...

THIS....is technically a 'writer's blog.' I have titled it such. On my website, it says 'See writer's blog:' and has a link to here that you can click. So it must be one.

I have been remiss, I feel, in posting or discussing what I'm working on in writing on here, so in lieu of the recent usual posts on ponderings, musings, current events & drenching tides of emotion... I am actually posting about writing today. Not much...but something.

I need to speak with someone. Or at any rate, get this the f*ck out...

I am writing a novel. And today:
I'm stuck.

This is Novemeber (apparently the kind of November that has an extra e thrown into it at that...nope I don't edit. Much. And it IS).

November: aka NaNoWriMo.

National. Novel. Writing. Month.   
(It really is. Look it up).

.....and I'm writing. Or trying. Kind of. I AM trying, though every time I seem to get a flow going, I am interrupted by an appointment & every time I suddenly find myself with time, my mind goes half blank.

I must admit I started my novel some time before this month began, in bits &
p(i before e, except after c)ieces  flashes, scenes, vague notions...

...and a GIRL. One girl. I had a girl in mind. She has many of the qualities I long for in myself, or feel (or wish, vainly) that I possesed....many similar odd likes/dislikes (or just oddities) to those of myself. But she is not me. And the more I write her, the more I know she is not me.

...And they are all me.

I feel torn between writing what is real & true...and writing a good story. Like I can't possibly do both.


Plot.   

...Is a silly, stupid, tricky thing.  And it's gettin' all wavy on me.

Mmh.  *(disgruntled noise)*

I write much better with other people or in a group effort. My inspiration thrives from other peoples energy & words: When I can turn to someone & say, "Give me a name." or "A consonant,  need a consonant...!" Or I propose a failing/contrived idea & someone says, well, how about we change this detail to __________ & this happens, and I can suddenly go, "No! Oh-ma-God I have it now! Thank you!" And begin to completely re-write the scene from a different person's point of view...

...I am writing this novel: Alone.

And right now, I'm stuck. Just: stuck.

No sooner do I find a name, than a month later, it tastes wrong in my mouth. I have a thousand scenes, but no way to tie them all together. A brilliant & overflowing (eh-hem)  vocabulary....until I need the words to describe or progress a situation & then its all 'ummmm....he-said......she-said....it felt like a.....' who knows, but something mundane & often repeated. Well, apparently EVERYTHING in this book happens 'suddenly.'


......o.O.....   (Double eh-hem). Dear God.

First it's Johny. Then suddenly, in the middle of hiking, I find out she has a brother...

.....she has a BROTHER?!  ....Ok. Well then why the hell hasn't he appeared til now? And what's his place in the REST of the book?! (Good name for him, though. Just came naturally, right away....good sign? I hope?) Then....ok, apparently she had a little sister (they had a little sister, remember? That changes the feel of it now, doesn't it?) ....who died? Ok. And it's her fault. Or...at least, she feels  like it is..........ok. Well....but why? And how? And.......are we ever gonna get to the plot/ If it's in there it has to have a reason....am I writing 5 different novels??
.....and then tonight: I discover they are TWINS??????!! Johny & her brother are TWINS?

What the hell am I writing?!

......ugh.

Exasperatedly yours,
~ G. "The Whistler"

....(nope. That's the OTHER blog, G.)

"Oy!"

An Artist's Work

"Finishing the hat,
How you have to finish the hat.
How you watch the rest of the world
From a window...
While you finish the hat.
_________

However you live,
There's a part of you always standing by,
Mapping out the sky,
Finishing a hat...
Starting on a hat..
Finishing a hat...
Look, I made a hat...
Where there never was a hat ."

I have always felt alone in my life. Not lonely, not sad, but alone. I think we all are. (It's not an uncommon theory-- I hear many people say so often). And yet,  we all strive for contact. That, as well, seems necessary for survival...or, at least, happiness.

It's a delicate balance.

Funny. I...have begun to work for myself in the last few years. Many people are inspired. Many people disapprove with polite smiles. Many of them look at me and say, 

'Oh, that's nice. But what do you do to make money? 

Have you done anything famous?

But...wait, what do you really do?'

You have to love it. You have to. I prefer a bit more stability. I do. But...re-making myself monthly; daily. Updating websites, designing business cards, frantically searching to make ends meet... I do. I love it all. Spending hours & hours a day, writing, choreographing, training, overwhelmed in the most lovely way with my ever-changing imperfections; striving for an ever-evolving ideal and sense of accomplishment. There....is, in reality, nothing greater than this feeling. (To me).

I didn't know that til recently.

Somehow, though, most people don't seem to understand. I think they do, quintessentially. But it makes them angry. Offended. Confused.

"Why didn't you call me? Why are you so reclusive? I can never count on you! Why can't you take care of yourself?" Then in the same breath, "Oh, look what wonderful work you do... Do more." And again, "When are you going to get a real job?"

As though the concept of putting yourself into your work & making your work about  yourself & your expression cannot truly exist. As though it's unheard of, when in fact we all long for it. (Or seem to).

If the thing that wakes you up at night or makes your eyes bright is carving things from wood...why wouldn't you do that? If numbers give you a thrill, embrace them! If to sing is how you awaken in the world, than by all means raise your voice! I think so many people envy actors, dancers, artists...is because it is the most obvious course of passion. There are nearly no tangible rewards but there can be glamor & beauty & expression.  But if the smell of baking bread leaves you lusting for flour & pan....I dare say your pastries would woo us all, were you to find it in yourself to let go of running a bank.

Perhaps some jobs would disappear. (Perhaps they need to). Perhaps we'd all have to chip in a bit more of the things which MUST be done that 'nobody wants to do.' But it is my experience that when you enfold yourself in passion, even doing the dishes or taking out the garbage becomes part of the ecstasy. And I see nothing wrong with a bit more art & passion in this world & a bit less greed. I want to live in THAT world.

And....

In the meantime. I always want to connect to my friends. I do. I want their company; sharing meals with them...laughing & venturing & connection.

But is it so foreign or hard a concept to grasp......that my art is my work? My life? My mistress AND my love? Because....my work is me?

Do I need a bigger salary to make you understand what it's like when I cannot answer my phone because I simply have to...

...'finish the hat'?

Love. (Or the thought of it).

(I wrote this some months ago).
 _________________________________________________________________

An unexpected occurrence.

I found out someone I loved (love) with everything I am....now loves another. I thought I would cry. (I suppose I did for a moment, but that was much later). I thought I'd feel angry...thought I'd feel lonely; like my world was crumbling: so soon? SO SOON?

But I read the message, again & again...and all I felt was...happiness for him. Not the restrained, "Oh I'm so happy for you now let me go hide in a corner" sort of resigned false joy.

No. I felt genuinely....incredibly...happy. It was............not at all what I expected.

Not at all.

I just sort of stared. And then I smiled. Uncontrolled.

It has nothing to do with me. I love him. And I got excited at the thought that he was happy & loved & being held & taken care of, with love. (Better, perhaps, than I could).

.............................................

What an unexpected thing.

Portland

It's November.

Portland, again. I am back in the land of dreary rain-winters, lights on buildings, silver sidewalks, trees & restlessness...

I don't want to be here. I don't want to not be here. I just...didn't want to be here so soon.

I want to be a hermit.

I actually find I don't really want much of anyone, even my friends, to know I'm here. I would rather go unnoticed-- come here to do my work, write alone in coffee shops, try somehow to continue working & raising money, perform in my show: focus on my work. And go an unnoticed shadow in this city of shades & rain. (Tango, of course, is the problem. How do I Tango incognito?)

...Perhaps I'll don a mustache.

It isn't a harsh thing. I love my friends. But all I want for a time is myself. I don't mind feeling loneliness in my own good company. I sometimes like it.

But my work. My art. Figuring this whole horrible thing out for school -- or giving up on it. I want to do it all alone.

I miss my bed.

I hope my roommates are not angry with me that I left so fast without a goodbye. I don't always think before I act, I fear. And it all happened so fast; all at once. I'm dancing; I'm injured; I'm dancing; I'm not sleeping; there's a ride & there may not be another -- so I pack, I clean, I'm running out of hours, I say yes & I go.

...it isn't til later that I realize this may not have been the wisest course of action.

It's an odd thing to know that you are deathly, deeply, sadly afraid of living your life out unnoticed & unremembered; unremarkable & at the exact same time to go through phases of longing for just that. Hmh.   *(I'm smiling).*

I'm glad to see my sister. I'm beginning to love my family more than just because they are my family. I really LOVE my sister. Miss my mother & father, even if I do not love always being around them...


Portland.
I don't know what to do.

It is also an odd thing to know that action is required; that your life is slipping by while you sit in coffee shops & just be sitting here, full of a softer kind of anxiety; worry, but just somehow fully happy & content to sit & spend hours...watching them slip by while you sit...and stare....and just look out windows.

I have so many things I want to do.

I don't want to go through the task of explaining, when my friends run into me here, why I am back again. I want to move forward. I am also happy with the ways in which I move forward; slowly advancing circles; curlicue paths; snaking spirals or interweaving knots of forward movement coupled with dramatic lines of straightness or dots of stillness to build momentum.

'People' do not understand. And I do not want to explain anymore.

I am happy in my life & I know where I am heading & that I am heading there; making progress. Isn't that enough?  (It should be. It is to me & my life is the one I am living).

Hello again, Portland. I'm glad to be working here, though i do not miss you. Anymore.

Hmh. How marvel-ous. Indeed, I marvel at it. How strange...

I've missed my sister. I hope my roommates aren't angry & I didn't f*ck that up again.

...I like being quiet. In the shadows. Without a name to me.
I have plans.

I'm back. 

Thought:

 

There is so much more in this world than we can possibly fathom...

...How strange. How sad. How amazing. How...beautiful.

 

A Choice I've Made

School...

Well. Hmh. Thoughts.

I wish I was going to school in January. I thought I could make it happen, but the truth is I don't feel right about taking money from my family & friends. As much as there is this insane part of me that always seems to think these impossible things (or reasonable things on impossible timelines) are...well, possible, it just isn't reasonable I guess. Still...this always optimistic part of me that wants to charge ahead and forge whole, new worlds & try to stir the blood of everyone around me to press on & do the same (as if we were waging some kind of epic battle for goodness) persists in believing...


...so, I guess I'm not going to school. It's interesting. I haven't cried this much or hard (in only a number of hours, mind you) over anything but a member of the male sex or feeling like I've failed the people I care about...in....I cannot recall. But a very long time, I would imagine.

But...sometimes it's time to...'grow up.' Or, well, at least check in with your deeper self & find out what actually feels right & good.

My father offered to pay for whatever amount of tuition I could not raise myself. This....was unspeakably generous. But...truly, his words & a list of 'Goals for My Year in California' that I found this afternoon made me stop & think. Does this college program really give me what I want?    Yes.  But...yes & no. Not a yes the way most people would look at it but  an outstanding yes to me.

However. I don't feel right about getting there by barely scraping by; by having to 'borrow, beg & steal' as the saying goes, from my friends & my family to get there. If I have to give up all that....all my honor & what feels good & 'in integrity' to get there....then it's not right. To me. Honestly....it's like...the lesson I have learned I think from my mother: she will do ANYTHING she must do to get the job done. And she is over-worked, over-burdened, over-saddened, and often times lonely & miserable, I think. She would argue otherwise & I do not mean to put her down. I think my mother, in fact, is quite noble & valiant...and yet, unhappy. That cannot FEEL good or right.

To me.......well, I think I need to do this myself. I do. It's something I've never done. There's too much, otherwise, riding on the shoulders of myself & other people, too much to be indebted to....to ever be easily or otherwise successful. the cost of it all is too great.

So the answer? I have to man-up & get a job. (No easy feat for me, for many reasons not going to be explained here, but not to be overlooked or brushed under the table, nonetheless). Which leaves me with...? Me. I am sad. I have been crying. There is a feeling of loos...but, I can breathe easier. And in the light of my room, through my tears...I still feel...good. And I see the promises I made to myself when this journey south began. I will make it & make it well. One step at a time.

School feels right. Feels important & important to do now. But all choices are right. Even stillness. Even sadness.

......I think I may have just grown up a little.
        (Breathe).

Honorable

"Life every man holds dear; but the dear man

holds honor far more precious dear

than life."

~ William Shakespeare

.   .   .

It would seem I have no honor.

I have lost it. Or forgotten it, somewhere. Or, in my upbringing, it was somehow mislead or squandered. Perhaps my honor is just a bit confused.

Perhaps I never had any to begin with.

.   .   .

INTEGRITY. That is...a very big word in my family.

My parents both took part in the Est training (or 'the Forum") when they were younger & both agree it changed their lives incredibly...though now they would both refuse to take it again, feeling as though they have retained all the answers & keys to the universe that it unfolds...

...(Perhaps less the sincere, simple, honest, COMPLETE element: Happiness)...
 

At least that, that is my observation & speculation, but let me not admit impediments to my elders, nor their better judgment & learning through experience in this world. I am only an ignorant child, unknowing in the ways of hippocracy...Eh-hem.

See? No honor. No respect for my elders. It would seem.

...Cheeky monkey that I am.

.   .   .

In any case: INTEGRITY. This was a word to be held over my head from infancy.

...If, per say, a child lied about the completion of their homework (stating it was done, when it was not in fact done), this would be dishonest & not in line with INTEGRITY.

...If that same child were to tell the truth, however, that despite sitting alone for long hours in their room, no parents at home (too scared to ask for help, anyways for fear of bothering & being yelled at), staring at the paper & books, reading over & over again, not understanding the words, and said instead, "I can't seem to get my brain to work right...no, it's not finished..." Again, they would not be in line with their INTEGRITY, because obviously they were daydreaming, sidetracked, just not trying hard enough...watching TV. Not paying attention. Just needed to try harder.

...If after threats, cajoling, promises, more threats, that child still did not complete their homework, but told the truth: "Have you finished your homework?"

"....No."

They got a beating. To get the message across.
The message that they were 'doing something wrong.'

Now...if you were that child, wouldn't it be better to lie & get only one really bad beating then to get one every day, because you couldn't get your brain to 'work right?'
No? Not in line with your honor?
 An excuse? When you are...Fifteen?
...Twelve? Ten?
...Six?

INTEGRITY can be... a very heavy word.

Anvil-like. Even.

.    .    .

HONOR. I love the idea of honor.

I want it. If someone could help me find mine, I would gladly take it back & cherish it.
But of course, that's silly. We all know (from reading books) that once a man (or woman)
has lost his honor, it can never be retrieved...

I have always wanted to be a 'man of my word.' I loved heroes in stories. I wanted to be one. The villains may have been more interesting (at least in Disney), but....in real life, lying...cheating...hiding...it makes your stomach hurt. I don't like it.

...And yet, it would seem, I am a 'dishonorable man.'

I used to like to boast that my word MEANS something. And I want it to. Badly.
'I keep my promises.'

Sometimes I even believe it.

But it must not be true, or I would not be so easily shaken when my honor or word is questioned or I am proved, through accusation, to be as my Father LOVES to say,
'Out of INTEGRITY.'

I have..........spent almost my whole life, trying to make others happy. 

Even at my own expense. 

(Usually at my own expense).

I was shown that this is how you are supposed to be in life.
Even if you are miserable. Even if it kills you.

....And yet.

I am also constantly ridiculed & scolded, even when I am trying to be a man of integrity:
 I cannot take care of myself. I neglect my health, neglect my friends, am unreliable.

They say I never do what's best for me, but cannot hope to succeed if I do not.
 I am often told that I cannot hope to make everyone happy,  but whether I try to to that or try to take care of myself, I seem to 'let everyone down.'
No matter what.

.   .   .

In the reality of this world, in application, there are certain things you are supposed to be able to do. They are generally expected of you:
 

- Be kind. 

(Well......except behind so-n-so's back. 
She's a b*tch! She deserves it).

- Be honest.

(But, ya know, a WHITE lie...that's...well, that's not REALLY a lie).

- Communicate.

(You really need to answer your phone more...don't you know I've been 
trying to get ahold of you for the last five minutes?!

Hey! Put down that phone when I'M talking to you! 
That's disrespectful! Be HERE now, please)!

- Take care of yourself above all else,
or you cannot help anyone else. 

(Unless of course we are talking about ME. 

You need to pay attention to me when I need you: NOW)!

- Be mindful of & respect all living things. 

(Well...not animals. They don't count. Oh...well, 

I mean I believe in no cruelty to them, but it's just ONE hot dog, right?
It's not like I do this EVERY day).

...What. Is. INTEGRITY?

.   .   .

In the last few moths, I have agreed to some things. In the 'real' world & in my friendships.

I have had to break a few of these 'promises.' None of them easily.
 I don't like it. I don't feel good about it. I haven't known what is best to do.
I try to go with my gut. But sometimes even THAT gets confused.

NOW...

If someone offers you the chance to do some work in one place (but it doesn't pay much) and you agree to take it, but then you get offered a job that is a quarter of the time & 4x the pay, will let you spend time with your family (some of whom are getting very old & frail), allow you to see friends you haven't seen in a long while
& in all ways is adding to your general health & well being...what do you do?

To keep your integrity, would you stay with the first job? You would, right?
Even if it means you have no real means of financial support...you go back on food stamps...you have to borrow money from your parents to buy TOILET paper.

...No?

Ah. The sensible thing is to turn down the first, offer help, make sure things will be ok & know that this is how business works in the real world.....yes? No?

What?

Ok, that doesn't work for you. Another scenario then:

You offer to do a favor for a friend, so they can take a much needed vacation:
you will watch their house & pets.

Then a job (again) calls & offers you $1,000 to come work. It would conflict with your previous agreement, but (again) you have nothing  lined up & are a bit worried about the poverty line being so close. This is also your JOB:
you need to be able to take work when it is offered to you,
living contract to contract.

INTEGRITY. You gave your word. Kind of. You said...sure I can do that for you.
So you would say, 'No thanks. I can't take the job.
I offered to watch a friend's house for two days.'

But now you have no money for school. No resources to live off of. No employment.

And you just said no to your one & only job offer.

If you were to call your friends & family at this time to ask for support, and they ask you why...and you proceed to tell them that you DID have a job offer of $1,000 but you had to turn it down because you offered to watch a friend's house for two days...and by the way you are gonna need to borrow money for food, necessities & the gas $ you need to get to the next thing you promised to do.........what do you think is their response?

Good for you! You stuck with your integrity?

OR

What the hell is wrong with you & why can't you take care of yourself?!

...Take a guess.

Say you take the job: also giving your word to them.
When your friend freaks out because they now have to find someone else to stay over,
will breaking your promise to them to honor your friend be any better?

.   .   .

I just went to see my best friend's show tonight that she directed.
Why? Because I love her dearly & I am proud of the work she does and I KNOW from personal experience what it is LIKE to feel unsupported...

I also know what it is like to look out into the audience and see even ONE friend's face there. It means the world.
 

THAT means more to me than anything; knowing I can give that to her.

...(See? I'm selfish. Even doing that for her is for me. No honor at all)...

THEN, I stayed after to help her take down the set & clean.

Did she ask me to? No.

Did I want to? YES.

Was it because I am selfless & like hard work? No. 

Do I like folding chairs? F*ck, NO.

...(Do I feel guilty because I'm boasting about it right now? YES).

So, WHY? I did it because of two things:

1.) I LOVE her. I have two hands.
rAnd for once, there was something I could do to help.

2.) Someone did that for ME.

...Now. This same day, I was accused by a different friend of not being out of integrity.
By someone I care about & want to help.

It must have hit something REALLY hard, because I have been a mess of tears & half-imagined & re-imagined conversations ALL DAY since then, defending myself to thin air, overrun with comebacks, challenges, apologies...

(L'esprit de l'escalier).

...all the reasons why I am in the right. Which makes me question why I feel the need to so stalwartly & passionately defend myself. (Unless I really am out of integrity).

Luckily I have learned enough in the past two years to 

not press the send button. EVER. 

Or this might be a whole lot more mess than it is.

...I have given my word once...twice...three times over; am trying to learn to take care of myself & be mindful of everyone & everything. I want to live like the heroes in my books who treat their word & honor with more weight than their LIVES.

...But what if everything crisses & crosses & then no one's happy?
Well, someone will be, but I guarantee it WON'T be me.

Who's word am I to honor above all else? The one to my employers? The one to my friends? Or the one to myself? If I cannot honor them all....what good am I?

What good is my word?

...But as I said, I have no honor. My word means nothing. And, in the end, as throughout my entire life, it seems the only thing I am accomplished at? Is letting people down.

Most of all...myself.

The whiny teenager without integrity will be putting herself to be now.
...WITHOUT ANY SUPPER.

.   .   .

"Confidence... thrives on honesty, on honor, on the sacredness of obligations, on faithful protection and on unselfish performance. Without them it cannot live."

~ F. D. Rosevelt

Goodnight.

Repetition in a Moment...

Love: noun

1. a profoundly tender, passionate affection for another person.

2. a feeling of warm personal attachment or deep affection, as for a parent, child, or friend.

3. sexual passion or desire.

4. a person toward whom love is felt; beloved person; sweetheart.

5.(used in direct address as a term of endearment, affection, or the like):  

"Would you like to see a movie, love?"

Love.

...Have you ever thought to look it up?

I am stuck on replay. Love.

I am stuck in words & their meanings.

Love.

I am stuck in silence.

Love, I am stuck in emptiness. 

It is sticky & revolting, Love.

I have lost your necklace, Love.

You will not speak to me, Love.

WHY DO I STILL CALL YOU LOVE?!

Why has it been so long?  ...Love?

I don't understand. Love.

I don't understand. I don't understand. I don't understand.

Love.

The word is aching & dull.

Love. 

The word is sharp & tearing.

Love...you call someone else: Love. Love. Love Love. Love.

Love.

 

Does love mean nothing? Love? 

Are promises washed clean away if you just change your mind? Change the word? Can you, really? Or is that why you say nothing at all?

Love. We are different people now. 

Love. You've made us strangers, now.

Love. You love another, now.

Love.

What am I waiting for?

Love, what am I longing for?

Love, what am I looking for?

No one. Feels. Like you.

Love... But no one feels like you.

Love. I am patient, Love.

Love. I am waiting, Love.

Love. I will always be...

You are not coming back. Love. Never. Love. Never. Love.

But what else can I do...?

Love?

I am stuck on replay, Love.

I love all of you.

To me you are the nearest thing to perfect, when we touch, Love. When we listen, love. When we feel...Love. Like it's always, Love. Always, Love.

I am always, Love.

Always, Love.

I don't want to hold you in my dreams, for fear of hurting the one you love, now, love.

I want to let you be hers, Love.

Let her be yours, Love.

I am not part of it, Love.

But I love you. I am here. I wait. 

I wait....

I can't help it, Love.

I am always yours, love. I don't even want it anymore

I am another person now. Only a memory. Nothing tangible. Only words...love.

Just a pillow. Love. An empty pillow.

Love?

How am I waiting, love? When I have let you go. Not even 'friend.' No.

...Even though I'll never feel your love again. Love. Love. Love. Love. Love. My love. My love. My love. Is gone. My love. My friend. My love. My love.

Somehow you do not exist...anymore. 

But I still want to (not want to) let you go.

Hello, Love.

Goodbye, Love.

...Hello?

The Point

The point is not to write the right thing. The point is just to write. The point lies not in knowing how to dance, but in dancing with every part of you. The point is not to sing like a singer, but to let your voice be free. Then you will do all things well. You will.

...Right. I had almost forgotten.

The point is not to write the right thing. The point is just to write. The point is not to dance perfectly, but to dance with everything in you. The point is not to sing, but to let your voice be free...and listen.