Category Archives: Personal

Writer’s Block

Have I written about writer’s block yet? I don’t think I have. I could procrastinate for another hour or so checking my archives to make sure, but I feel that would only exacerbate the problem. That is to say, it would be another way for me to avoid writing. I could spend as much time as I wanted preparing, getting distracted, feeling guilty about being unproductive, and being unproductive, but that wouldn’t get me much further than where I am now. And I’ve got stuff I need to do.

Intellectually, I know that the best way to combat writer’s block is by writing something (anything!), even if it’s crap. Well, that’s all well and good, but try getting your subconscious to listen to reason; it’s problematic at the best of times, and only seems to be all logical when it serves its own ends.

So here I am, writing about writer’s block. Don’t let the irony overwhelm you. Here’s a protip: writer’s block sucks. Try to avoid it.

I think that the proverbial honeymoon is over when it comes to this blog. It’s starting to feel like an obligation, posting every day. But I worry that if I stop posting, I won’t recover. My inadvertently missed day last week already shook my confidence, and it doesn’t help matters that I have a lot to do and not many spoons to do it.

This isn’t a cry for pity. Nor is it an attempt to get people to help me and tell me how awesome I am (I was there, and it was pretty sweet, but that’s not the point). It’s more of an attempt to get the juices flowing, and getting to a point where writing is just a habit and it feels weirder to skip it than it does to sit down and do it. So here I am, throwing words onto a page to see what sticks.

And don’t get me wrong, it is working. As I write, I it getting easier and my motivation growing. If I didn’t have other stuff to do, I might try and get several posts written. I think part of the problem is also tied to fatigue, as when I get tired I tend to lose interest in things. But I’m trying my best to soldier through, because I know that things do get better when I get off my butt and actually do something.

Metaphorically of course. Right now I’m writing this slouched on the couch in the basement. It doesn’t help the staying awake thing, but I seem to have just taken an impromptu micro-nap, and that seems to be helping.

So yeah. Writer’s block plus fatigue divided by the number of spoons left equals filler post. Whee.

Time to Sleep

If you will permit me, I’d like to complain about getting old.

I know, I know; as one of the younger people in my social group, I’m probably going to get a fair amount of crap. So let’s narrow it down a bit.

I’d like to complain about getting tired.

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The Masks We Wear

For whom and I writing? If I am writing for myself, then why am I publishing these scribbles publicly? If I am writing for others, why do I spend so much time navel-gazing? It is an interesting dichotomy, and one which has gotten me thinking about masks.

Whether we do it consciously or not, we all wear masks. Not physically of course, but socially and mentally. I for one know I am not the same person when I am talking to my coworkers versus my good friends. I act differently, but I also find myself thinking differently, almost playing a role depending on the situation. My girlfriend sees different sides of me than my parents or brother do, and not just in the obvious ways (sorry bro, you’re just not my type). I see myself in yet another light, given that I spend a whole lot of time trapped in my own head with my thoughts, from dreary to delightful. And that is all well and good; like I said, everyone must do that to some extent. But how does this relate to my blogging?

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Messy vs. Dirty

I sit in my office, which is not exactly in the best state of repair at the moment. The clothes pile threatens to metastasize, there is an abandoned LEGO-sorting project near the bookshelves, and there is barely enough space on my desk for my laptop.

It’s a good thing I don’t have to look at it (aside from the desk) while I’m writing.

But on some level, I can still feel the chaos. It is distracting, if for no other reason than the thought “Man, I really need to do something about that” is never far from my conscious mind. When it flares into prominence, I tend to respond with a guilty “Yeah…” before surfing back to Facebook or going downstairs to power up the Xbox 360. Not the best coping mechanism, I will readily admit, especially since there’s a mess with to contend with down there as well. And that’s not saying anything about having to pass through the kitchen.

I definitely have a different tolerance for mess than my immediate family (I plan to discuss the dreaded “Mom Clean” tomorrow), that that’s not to say I never reach my limit. But one thing that makes my view of mess and disorder different than the rest of my family is that I do not see “messy” as the same as “dirty.”

Let’s go into some definitions. Messy, in this case, refers to the level of disorder in a space. It can be a random jumble of loose ends, or an organizational system based on heaps and piles. When clothes get strewn around willy-nilly (after I get home from work) or projects peter out in the middle, things end up messy. Disorder can be distracting, but I seem to be able to cope with it relatively well (up to a point, of course).

Dirty, on the other hand, refers to the level of filth in a space. A kitchen filled with half-eaten rotting food cementing plates together is dirty. A bathroom so horrendous that your friends would rather stop by the truck stop on their way home at two in the morning is dirty. Dirty is an abhorrent state, one to be avoided at all costs.

I think my differences with my family come from the fact that I don’t feel that Messiness and Dirtiness are mutually inclusive. For example: a room with piles of clothes on the floor. Messy or Dirty? For me, it depends: if the clothes are clean, then the room is merely Messy. Old, sweaty fighting undergarments that reek of the blood of your enemies? Definitely Dirty. The Messy piles should likely be cleaned up, but it’s less of a pressing issue, especially if you can find what you need in a reasonable amount of time (“The underwear’s in that pile, and the socks are over here!”).

And I will readily admit that the line between Messy and Dirty can be very fuzzy even at the best of times. In fact, it’s probably not a continuum between Clean, Messy, and Dirty. It’s probably more of a series of perpendicular axes: Ordered/Messy and Clean/Dirty. Things can be Clean and Messy, or Dirty and Messy; these two are not the same, although I’m not sure how one could be Ordered and Dirty.

I strive very hard to make sure I stay on the Messy side of things (despite whatever rotten lies my family has told you). It just means my floors don’t get vacuumed as often as they might.

But I do need to at least make room for a new pile of clean laundry.

We Are Not Alone

Remember how I said I spend too much time in my own head? Well, let this blog serve as a lesson as to why it’s good to come out from time to time. Since I’ve started letting you root through my underwear drawer pile, I’ve told you things that I tend not to otherwise discuss; whether that’s because of nerves or the freedom to think things through, I don’t know. But I’ve let you all in to my brain, and let you see some of the (supposedly) unspeakable gibbering horrors that reside within the non-Euclidean halls of my psyche.

And you’ve responded with “hey, that looks familiar.”

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Navel Gazing

It’s amazing how quickly the things I do can shift from “for myself” to “for others.” Take this blog, for instance. My first few entries were written before I announced my projec tto the public. I would say those entries were the closest I’ve been to writing purely for myself. I didn’t rightly care what I wrote, just that I was writing. The act itself was more important than the results. However, I’ve noticed a chance since other people started reading and commenting. I find myself thinking more about what I say, and if people are going to want to read it. I feel like I should write something interesting, which will hopefully spark discussion and commentary. I’ve started checking the stats daily, to see what kind of traffic I’m getting. In short, I’ve started writing for the readers and not the writer.

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Letting the Days Go By

Imagine if you will: a 14-year-old boy wanders the halls of a suburban high school in Aurora, Colorado. He wears large, tortoiseshell-rimmed glasses that seem to cover half his face, and his hair is unfashionably yet comfortably parted on the side (a style he’s worn for most of his life at this point, and can’t imagine wearing it otherwise). He drags a wheeled briefcase behind him, as the mass of textbooks he must studiously carry with him would otherwise be too heavy. Even if this results in ridicule from his fellow students, he is oblivious. He does not have many friends at school outside those he also knows through martial arts, as well as a few fellow misfits in the sci-tech department. He relates better with his teachers than his “peers.” He is smart, but this sometimes manifests as a tendency to finish other people’s sentences or to pontificate in minute detail on favored subjects. He dresses very formally, usually in a buttoned shirt, and even the occasional Hawaiian shirt is always tucked into his pants. In the cafeteria, he tends to eat his sack lunch by himself, often with the company of a book. His greatest annoyance is other students who loiter in the hallways during passing periods, disrupting the flow like blood clots. In class, he is a bit of an overachiever, finishing work early and eagerly asking for more.

I’ve changed a bit since high school.

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Hey look, I’m inspiring!

Feedback on this blog is trickling in, and I’m enjoying every bit I get. One reader, who wasn’t brave enough to respond in public (you know who you are. The wet ops squad is currently en route), mentioned they appreciated how honest and sharing I’ve been. That got me thinking, especially since I’ve been worrying that being too personal here may not be interesting: my experiences, opinions, and thoughts that I share here are what makes this blog unique. People can go anywhere to get commentary on the newest political or entertainment developments, but so far this blog is the only source my my brain droppings online. Besides, I should be writing for myself, and if people decide they like it, all the better.  I started this blog to have a place to air out my brain, and I would do well to remember that primary purpose.  Doing anything else, like stressing about writing something entertaining, or trying to have some sort of point or intrinsic value would be, well, see the title of this blog.

So thanks, you anonymous handsome devil, you. Your time is short; I’d serpentine if I were you.

Just a Role Model

I generally don’t read nonfiction, and I can’t remember the last time I read a memoir voluntarily; I get enough of boring, drab reality in my day-to-day life. But I just finished reading Just a Geek by Wil Wheaton. I picked it up during the most recent Humble Bundle, and got around to starting it a few days ago. It’s not a long book, but I still feel like I finished it in record time.

I’m not sure how to say this, so I’ll just start writing and hope things sort themselves out. His experience speaks to me in a way I didn’t think possible. I, like I imagine many others who consider themselves geeks or nerds, often spend far too much time in my own head. As such, I tend to end up brooding over things, turning minor molehills into neurotic mountains. But this book showed me that I don’t suffer alone. That feeling you get when you’re waiting by the phone or computer to hear back from an interview, and the dread mounts daily? Yeah, Wil Wheaton’s felt that. The discouragement after being told you’re hugely qualified but they decided to go with someone else? Wil Wheaton’s felt that, too. The disillusionment with your chosen career path, unable to find joy and fulfillment in your daily existence, beating yourself up for a past decision that’s looking more and more like a huge life-crushing mistake?

You can see where I’m going with this.

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