What has happened to me?
I used to consider myself to be somewhat prolific. I used to think I had a voice, and while it didn't always say something meaningful or useful, it usually said something.
So why have I completely faltered? Falter? No, that's not the right word. To falter would imply I have made a mistake and recognize a clear path back to where I was. That is certainly not me in this case.
Probably more accurate, I have stagnated. All my ideas and all my thoughts have been blocked up and left to rot. Indeed, it seems my pool of ideas has become more of a cesspool of frustration and wasted time.
I had gotten the idea to start working on drafts for my posts, and for a little while I felt like I was really on to something. But even that has reached this murky and impenetrable quagmire of a writer's block.
Whats my point here? I'm frustrated. I'm stuck. But I'm not giving up. I'm going to find a way through this.
So, if you happen to be one of the few folks who actually keep track of my exploits here, keep keeping track. I promise, there will be something soon.
Please, let there be something soon....
Aug 27, 2009
Aug 9, 2009
Any port will do, but I would much rather have a Marina.
Inspiration comes at the weirdest times and strangest places. For example, here I sit at work, of all places, and suddenly feel like I need to post something. How weird and out of place is this sudden desire? Lets look at in laymen’s terms: I am at work, I am wearing a shirt that has always been on the side of being-too-small-to-really-be-comfortable-yet-not-to-small-to-justify-buying-another-$60-dollar-shirt, I am surrounded by co-workers whom I have relatively little in common with (therefore I really don’t have anything to talk about with, either), I’m drinking a cup of coffee that is in and of itself only coffee because it is dark and hot, and I have barely been posting more than once a week in the recent past anyway. So why the sudden desire to post something?
The sad truth is, I don’t know. I feel like the proverbial ship that is lost in a storm. And right about now, in this storm, I would take any port. And therein lies the problem. I want t put something new. But with no real compass to refer to for direction, 20-foot swells and blackout conditions, one port looks just like another.
Now, perhaps the port you choose resembles a lavish, luxury resort marina (note the departure from the work port? That’s because these uppity-uppity places can’t be associated with a one-syllable word like “port.” So we up the ante by upping the syllables. Hence, the word Marina. You know the places I am talking about. With the restaurants, the fashion stores, and the boats that resemble small floating houses. I have been to one of these types of marinas. You can’t go wrong here. The old saying, “Any port in a storm,” should really be changed to, “Man, if I have to choose any port because of this stupid storm let it resemble the Cabo San Lucas Marina!”
(And no, this is not a plug for Cabo, however they really do have a nice Marina.)
And then, of course, if there is actually some sort of Marina I would preferably land in during a storm, there must be a port I would rather avoid. In fact, I’m sure there are ports I would rather avoid. The kind of place that looks seedy. The kind of place that has one restaurant, which only a few select people go to because they have somehow hardened the linings of their stomachs and worries (such as ecoli) are reduced by their general lack of an ability to say these types of words aloud. The kind of place that is called a Port simply because Marina has too many syllables. This is the kind of port I would want to avoid.
So, having taken this extremely colorful, and probably overly lengthy, metaphor into account, I still sit here looking to post something. Anything.
Which port do I choose? I can pretty much guarantee I won't be hitting a Marina, not tonight. Not while I sit here at work, in this uniform shirt that's a little too small, and I'm surrounded by people who I don't dislike, but I don't really have anything in common either.
So its a port. I need a port.
I recently started reading a book which was recommended by J. J told me she liked the book a lot and the guy's writing style was similar to my own. This I found intriguing. So I started reading it. And sure enough, I could see myself writing some of these very things (if I were to lose some of my own personal inhibitions and have an audience that is strictly over the age of 18).
The real problem, here at work, is its nearly impossible to read in this environment. And some days would be perfect for it too. We are not horribly busy, we have enough staffing to make the small amount of work we have actually had to do seem minimal. But that lends to conversations being struck up, and for whatever reason, these conversations are loud. And people are generally talking over one another, like it was the floor of the NY Stock Exchange and DOW just jumped about 4000 points. Yeah, its that loud.
OK, so now what? I could enumerate the many things at work that annoy me. However, if I did that, we would probably need a few licensed mental health workers to be on call, and I don't know that I could swing that one.
I could talk about anything I want to. But in the end, I simply feel like I'm still at sea. I can see a few different ports twinkling in the night, but I just can't seem to land at any of them.
Maybe its time to simply light the old signal flare and hope someone comes to me?
The sad truth is, I don’t know. I feel like the proverbial ship that is lost in a storm. And right about now, in this storm, I would take any port. And therein lies the problem. I want t put something new. But with no real compass to refer to for direction, 20-foot swells and blackout conditions, one port looks just like another.
Now, perhaps the port you choose resembles a lavish, luxury resort marina (note the departure from the work port? That’s because these uppity-uppity places can’t be associated with a one-syllable word like “port.” So we up the ante by upping the syllables. Hence, the word Marina. You know the places I am talking about. With the restaurants, the fashion stores, and the boats that resemble small floating houses. I have been to one of these types of marinas. You can’t go wrong here. The old saying, “Any port in a storm,” should really be changed to, “Man, if I have to choose any port because of this stupid storm let it resemble the Cabo San Lucas Marina!”
(And no, this is not a plug for Cabo, however they really do have a nice Marina.)
And then, of course, if there is actually some sort of Marina I would preferably land in during a storm, there must be a port I would rather avoid. In fact, I’m sure there are ports I would rather avoid. The kind of place that looks seedy. The kind of place that has one restaurant, which only a few select people go to because they have somehow hardened the linings of their stomachs and worries (such as ecoli) are reduced by their general lack of an ability to say these types of words aloud. The kind of place that is called a Port simply because Marina has too many syllables. This is the kind of port I would want to avoid.
So, having taken this extremely colorful, and probably overly lengthy, metaphor into account, I still sit here looking to post something. Anything.
Which port do I choose? I can pretty much guarantee I won't be hitting a Marina, not tonight. Not while I sit here at work, in this uniform shirt that's a little too small, and I'm surrounded by people who I don't dislike, but I don't really have anything in common either.
So its a port. I need a port.
I recently started reading a book which was recommended by J. J told me she liked the book a lot and the guy's writing style was similar to my own. This I found intriguing. So I started reading it. And sure enough, I could see myself writing some of these very things (if I were to lose some of my own personal inhibitions and have an audience that is strictly over the age of 18).
The real problem, here at work, is its nearly impossible to read in this environment. And some days would be perfect for it too. We are not horribly busy, we have enough staffing to make the small amount of work we have actually had to do seem minimal. But that lends to conversations being struck up, and for whatever reason, these conversations are loud. And people are generally talking over one another, like it was the floor of the NY Stock Exchange and DOW just jumped about 4000 points. Yeah, its that loud.
OK, so now what? I could enumerate the many things at work that annoy me. However, if I did that, we would probably need a few licensed mental health workers to be on call, and I don't know that I could swing that one.
I could talk about anything I want to. But in the end, I simply feel like I'm still at sea. I can see a few different ports twinkling in the night, but I just can't seem to land at any of them.
Maybe its time to simply light the old signal flare and hope someone comes to me?
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