|Spill of Thoughts
Author: Splatter-Painter52291 PM
Just a rant to try to break up some writer's block. Sorta worked. I shall try more of this type stuff maybe. Basically this is just brain-babble. Still, I thought it was interesting enough to postRated: Fiction T - English - Words: 2,024 - Published: 01-08-13 - Status: Complete - id: 3090474
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This is a Rant.
Maybe this will break the loop of frustration that is writer's block.
I don't think anyone really realizes how scary it is for me to not be able to write.
I'm only 21, but ever since I was 5 I've been a story teller.
When I was 7 I decided that I was a writer.
Stories always looked best to me when they were written down.
So, for fourteen years my top self-description is "Writer".
Who now can't find anything to write.
Bit of back story here: Saturday, January 5th, 2013, my grandma passed away. I won't go into the hows whys and whatwherealls involved with that. It was sad, she loved her family and she will be missed tremendously.
I was fairly writer's blocked before, and now I just feel hollow.
And even the words and stories that a less than a month ago were like warm embers just waiting for a new piece of wood to catch into a blaze of inspiration now crumble to ash as I try to hold them and anything else close to counter this empty feeling.
So this is just me writing about writer's block.
Because fuck you, writer's block. I'm going to write anyway.
Sometimes I don't know what to think about myself. Usually the part of my brain that always stands apart from whatever is happening or what I'm feeling. Analyzes it, and stores it away for use for some story or another.
I was standing at my grandma's bedside, and part of my brain was going "Huh, so the lips really do look blue after a few hours."
"So this is what shock feels like"
90% of my mind is focused on what I'm doing, which at that point was saying a last goodbye and sobbing.
But what about that last 10 percent?
Is it cold?
Or just really productive and practical?
Sometimes I wonder about that with the other 90 percent of me.
Does anyone else feel guilty because they think they're moving on too soon and then go into a new wave of grief and sorrow?
One might look at that question and go "Of course everyone gets like that. What makes you think you're different?"
My problem is that I get that same reaction of scorn and derision for two entirely different sentiments.
That's a totally normal thing. Everyone thinks/sees/hears that
Wtf? That's definitely not a normal thing. What are you on?
At least half the time while I was growing up I'd get one of those two reactions whenever I voiced a thought or observation.
What does that tell me about what is "normal" in relation to my thoughts and feelings?
ABSOLUTELY FUCKING NOTHING.
What does that tell me about commenting about how I think/see things?
Don't do it.
I don't know what is "normal". All anyone ever knows initially is their own perspective. For somethings, that perspective is almost universally shared. For other things, not so much.
To most people think that my personality is conflicted in its duality. What I think or feel can do a 180 in a matter of seconds.
I'm not the one that's conflicted.
My mind is just working at warp speed and the rest of the world can't keep up.
I hate it when people interrupt me when I'm staring off into space and ask "What are you thinking about?"
Them: "Obviously you were thinking something."
Actually, no I wasn't.
I was waiting for some thought or feeling to float up from the depths of my mind. I don't know what it is until it reaches the surface. Our minds are like the ocean, all the interesting and scary- as-shit things are at the bottom, but we don't know what they are until either we go down to see or bring them up. I was in the process of bringing something up from those depths and you just interrupted me and now the thing has escaped, whatever it was.
And if you ask why I don't just always think about those things at the bottom of my mind.
I just said it's like the ocean. There's a reason why we don't live at the bottom of the ocean. We aren't prepared for it in any way, shape or form.
I don't think either I or anyone else is really prepared for everything that's at the bottom of my mind. I might be, under the right circumstances. Like when I'm talking with my fiance. He's pretty much the only person I trust absolutely with whatever comes from that part of me.
I think my mind used to be like a river. Everything flowing along, roughly at the same depth.
Then some thoughts and feelings were "strange" and "weird" and met with that scorn and derision I mentioned earlier.
So those parts, those thoughts and feelings got shoved deeper and deeper and covered with things that people seemed to have an easier time accepting.
Am I still weird, quirky, energetic and random?
But there is always a rhyme or reason to my thoughts, and sometimes the line of reasoning goes too deep in my mind, past where I can see and easily explain.
If given a moment, I could explain the whole train of thought. If you're in conversation with me and my line of reasoning behind a thought seems a bit incomplete, that's why.
The points between what I'm telling you went below a depth that I'm comfortable sharing with you. Or I might change topics to something else entirely to keep on the level I'm comfortable with. This is by no means a mark against you. More a mark against the world as a whole.
Until I met my fiance, I'd pretty much accepted that the deepest level of my mind was simply not to be explained. Ever. It doesn't stop things from that level floating higher on their own. But these were things I was to keep to myself. I couldn't ask about this thought or feeling that perplexed me. It came from that level.
I don't expect everyone to get where I'm coming from on this. Maybe their mind is like a river. Or a lake. Or a stream. Or a freaking irrigation system. Who knows? Earlier I said "Our minds are like an ocean."
Because like everyone else, I can only assume that other people think like me. I know this isn't true. Everyone is different and thus, they think differently. Continuing with the water analogy, all we ever see at first glance is the very surface of the water. If our minds are the water, then our lives are the landscape. All we see of anyone else is the water. And almost all water looks exactly the same. The only thing that changes the appearance of water is the landscape around it and the things living in it. Though, on the surface, we don't know anything about what lives in any particular body of water. The difference between an ocean and a sea? The land is farther away. Difference between a river and a stream? How close the surrounding land is.
And throughout our lives, we are exploring ourselves, our minds. Say, you're a stream. Just flowing along and suddenly life happens like "HOLY CRAP A BOULDER!" Or "WTF? A BRIDGE?" Or "SHIT, SHARP TURN!" Or maybe even "FUCKCAKES! A WATERFALL!"
Now, the things that are actually happening might look to a river, like no big deal. Maybe to them, that bolder is just a rock. That bridge was a log and the waterfall was a slight drop. They might see it like that, but to you they were major events. Maybe future events will be even more major. Maybe in the future, you will be a river, and so those things will seem like less of a big deal. But right now, they are big fucking deals.
Maybe everyone starts off as a stream. Maybe that person was a stream, and was so influenced by society and the structures therein that now they're an irrigation system. Maybe this person was a stream and a lot of big things happened so now they're a lake. Who knows. Maybe this other person was a puddle, and then a meteor happened, and now they're a freaking inland sea.
I know I'm young. Physically, I look even younger.
I may look like a lake, but I'm just a young ocean.
I may look like a stream, but I'm just a young river.
A cheery thought here, if the land of life feels like its choking you out. You might actually be a canyon. Canyons are majestic.
So when life gets you down, remember you are a majestic fucking canyon. That's impressive as hell, right there.
Maybe I'm just a lake, instead of an ocean.
That doesn't make the depths any less dark.
Or the things living there any more apparent.
But I think I'm an ocean.
You might think I'm a lake because you're a fucking HUGE ocean.
You're entitled to your opinion.
My opinion is that I'm an ocean.
Now, one might wonder, if I'm so cautious of what I tell other people of the things in my mind, how come I'm writing all this down to maybe be posted on the internet?
Well, firstly, because I just wanted to write something down.
Secondly, because this little rant of mine has some downright hilarious points.
Thirdly, because it's the internet. This could be a pebble, or it could be a mountain. I don't know. But it's probably a pebble.
People could read it. It could be something that they find interesting. I don't know. If everyone was afraid to put what they wrote out for the world to see, the greatest pieces of literature would have remained scattered thoughts forever lost to humanity. That'd be a goddamn shame. Though this isn't what I'd call great literature, this is just the flow of my mind put to paper... or screen.
Essentially, the answer to "Why am I doing this?"
Because I'm a writer.
Why the hell not?
It's one of the exciting things about writing. And posting said writing to the internet.
Anyone could read it. Could be reading it right now. Anyone at all. From President Obama to Tom Hiddleston to my next door neighbor.
Speaking of celebrities and such, I'm sure they get a lot of fan-babble. From my own perspective; if my mind is an ocean, then fan-babble (really, babble of any kind) is a flock of seagulls. Floating on the surface and getting in the way of every other coherent thought beneath the surface. Actually, that analogy makes a lot more sense than I originally thought. Upon meeting someone one admires a great deal, ones thoughts become jumbled. As if the thoughts were fish and suddenly they are all swarming around and generally being confusing.
And all that thought-fishy activity attracts the attention of the babble-gulls.
So now there's a bunch of coherent thoughts thrashing around trying to get put to words, and they keep getting eaten by the babble-gulls.
So, if you ever meet me in person, and I'm babbling, just know that there is coherent thought happening as well. It's just getting eaten by the babble-gulls.
This has been a small rant.
It has accomplished what I wanted it to do: Make me feel less hollow and empty.
I may not have the energy or motivation to write any of my stories, but that does not mean that I'm not a writer.
Thank you for reading.