It is the worst feeling in the world.
Look at that nice, shiny, gleaming cliche. Quite impressive, no?
Here I am sitting at my desk, letting the thoughts run through my head, so that I might put them to paper. A nice calm, quiet night surrounds me. No blaring klaxons of the outside. Nothing to interrupt and derail the train of thought. Yet, nothing comes. It is almost as though, I have nothing left to say.
And that seems impossible. I've always had this deep, seething passion inside. An acrid ball of feelings and ideas always at my beck and call. An apparent endless compulsion for expression. It became the drive of my life, the navigator of my trek through life. And now, it is all but gone. A well gone dry, with only this holey, rusty, splintered bucket, to collect the acid rain that falls from the cloudy skies of my contemptuous apathy.
How did this come to be? What happened to the young, rebel spirit that awoke as I entered my teenage kingdom? What happened to that burning, unquenchable fire? Who silenced the raucous roar from my belly? Even now, I can still hear the echoes of the imploring from that child that was within me. Now, it is but the desperate whisperings of an old man, parched with thirst, and falling to dust.
I sit here in my chair, the ticking of time torturing me deep inside. Every minute evaporating into nothing, every hour sinking into the void, my days, falling into obscurity. It isn't that I no longer experience torments, troubles, and tribulations. Though I have settled into domestic comfort, the world around continues to swirl with acrimony, crisis, and conflict. The tentacles of tomorrow's trespasses do indeed surround with their foreboding presence. Yet they don't move me to emotion. There are no sparks to summon speech.
Instead I remain, here, paralyzed in an uncaring and unyielding purgatory. Caught in caustic comfort. Adrift in the wake of dispassion.
Maybe some coffee...
It's distressing how much I sympathize. I miss that feeling, that drive so much and yet I can't seem to rekindle that. I think I know where that started, for me.
Depression.
At times like that, I reach for my Oblique Strategies deck.
"Remove specifics and convert to ambiguities."
Good luck.
Quote from: BADGE OF HONOR on May 02, 2009, 09:32:32 AM
Depression.
I don't think so, but it's possible. I have other issues, but even at my lowest I had that passion still. I've been much better since then, but it fizzled out.
"The tentacles of tomorrow's trespasses do indeed surround with their foreboding presence."
-Rev. What's-His-Name?
It ain't over until the fat lady sings. I simply can't believe this is true, you're too talented a wordsmith! Maybe it's like a "slash & burn" thing? You're too good at cultivating thoughts to let them go fallow (for too long).
I would have to say that nothing angers, or inspires you enough to cause a reaction. You are becoming more jaded to the world.
Quote from: Faithless on May 05, 2009, 08:40:55 AM
I would have to say that nothing angers, or inspires you enough to cause a reaction. You are becoming more jaded to the world.
BULLSHIT.
LMNO
-just, you know, bullshit.
I've written about this before but from a slightly different perspective. About feeling safe and comfortable. I've established myself in my field. I have a pretty rock-solid marriage with my beautiful wife. I have a smart, energetic, and imaginative little 5 year old girl. I've got the house, I've got a fence, I've got the two cats, a fish, a rocking chair on the patio. Life is good.
But yet, I know life really isn't that good, that is, the life that is happening around my little comfortable domestic domicile. Indeed, in my line of work, I am faced with that on pretty much a daily basis. It's almost like, you are subjected to a never-ending stream of suck and fail in the larger scheme of things. After awhile, I think you just come to the conclusion of "Fuck it! The world can go to hell, that's fine, I'm just going to bunker down here with the family and watch it burn." But it isn't a constant thing. I mean, if I really didn't care I'd be doing something different. Afterall, my little girl is going to have to live in this world without me, at some point in her life.
I think you brain is either just taking a rest, or it may not believe it has enough time to start making new connections.
I'm in the camp where they say that art and creativity is the act and skill of putting two previously unrelated things together. This often takes effort and energy. Sometimes, the brain's just not up to the task. Other times, you just need a small bit of framing to get things going.
For example, I've been trying to write another piano piece, but it just kind of eluded me. Then, a few nights ago, I was watching something on TV, and a bit of background music caught my ear. It was crap, but it was a small pattern that I recognized could be a seed for what I was trying. I went to my computer, wrapped a three-note idea around that frame, and the patterns started clicking together.
A blank etch-a-sketch is intimidating. But once you turn the dial, it becomes much easier to play with it.
this isn't your first rant on a similar topic. Didn't you post once about how you had gotten the wife, the kid, the white picket fence (or rather: the yard covered in unshoveled white fluff), the whole nine yards, and you were like "now what?" IIRC You were wondering if it was wrong to feel complacent & comfortable.
I think at the time, we recommended doing something to shake up your rut. I give the same advice here - are you uninspired due to a lack of stimulus? Maybe you need some new brain cells firing, stirring up the pot.
I'll be honest, when I started writing this, it wasn't acutally meant to be autobiographical, and I should've started it in Bring & Brag. And I will also admit I might've been slightly under the influence while composing it.
Anyway, I do have to say, while my creative writing has suffered, the stuff I do for work has been quite good. My higher-ups are still raving about the 20 page document I drafted in defense of my teen-support program. Maybe my mind is still recovering from that episode. Maybe I need a vacation. I think that's probably it.
I suggest doing something other than writing.
Have you ever tacked an enormous sheet of paper to your wall, and just started doodling on it?
Or maybe you could try cooking something ambitious.
Of course, there's always that guitar in the basement....
"The only sin, is the sin of Stagnation. That which stagnates dies."
Changing interests, changing ideas, resorting what's important at the time... all of those are OK. It might be easy to think you need to stick with what you've always done, because its 'doing something'... but you can stagnate from LACK of action, or repetitive action. That is, don't despair that you may have changed... just explore the new... you. ;-)
There is nothing wrong with a house and a family. There is nothing wrong with being happy with your family and there's nothing wrong with telling the rest of the world to fuck off for awhile. Adventures with your family are adventures still. Perhaps, new ones, ones that will open new ruts and slopes, new shrapnel and maybe a new window in your BiP... (or maybe it will turn your Black Iron Prison into a "Fiberglass MiniVan of Adventure" :lulz:).
A burning unquenchable fire, destroys all the fuel and goes out. It's good for a party, but its no good for cooking, or for long term heat or for working metal, or for doing much of anything except making a bunch of light and smoke. Maybe you're no longer in need of 20 foot bonfire flames, perhaps you are moving on to those hot coals, which can cook, heat or smelt.
And you're not a hippie, so you won't smelt like Patchouli. :transmet: