dith.er

I don't know which way to go. Any advice?

Blog Fright

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I think I have blog fright. Lately, every time I even think about posting to my blog, I start to feel irrationally anxious. What do I have to say that’s even remotely interesting? Am I being to negative? Am I not being genuine enough? Will I offend someone? Having spent an embarrassing amount of my life dealing with fear and anxiety,  I know it’s when I most worried about something that I need to confront it head on. So here I am.

I’ve been overthinking things as of late. When I think too much, I can’t write. All I can do is think about writing and it’s terrible. As a friend of mine recently described it, it’s like “self-imposed writer’s block.” When I find myself in this situation I find that one of the most motivating excercises is to read through old pieces of work. Although it’s usually a reminder that I have a long way to go in my craft, it’s also a good way of remembering that I have the ability to be creative.

To that end, I found the *experimental* piece that follows while undergoing this process today. I’ve mostly kept my fiction writing off this blog (and the Internet in general) a. because I don’t want anyone stealing something I might try to publish one day and b. because my fiction writing somehow  feels even more personal than this personal blog of mine. But the piece I’m posting here is not one I will ever try to publish. It was actually an excercise for a class I took a year ago and it’s more of an effort in the unconventional than any kind of representation of my “typical” style, so I suppose that makes it feel a bit safer, too. 

Like I said, when fear grips, it’s time to dive in head first.

L.O.V.E

1. Quickly and vigorously mix one cup of obsession with equal parts expectation and lust until just smooth. It should be the color of poppies with the glossy sheen of a television screen. Dip your pinky in, and place a drop or two on the buds of your tongue. That’s satisfaction.

2. In a separate container, whisk together a third of a cup desperation, one and a half cups of childhood trauma — including, but not limited to, fear of being abandoned, unjustifiable need for attention and affection, tears of the mother — two tablespoons damaged tissue and plucked heart strings, and two servings of ego, lightly beaten. Keep a close eye out for shards of self-esteem; they will be round and black, like small pebbles. Remove and toss (or can be saved for later use).

3. Combine both mixtures using broad strokes. Be sure to beat out any lumps or distinguishing traits. When thoroughly combined, the resulting mix should be dependent, elastic, and lost, looking like two bodies in the throws of a passionate sexual encounter in a dark room on any old Saturday (Tuesday) night. Give it a good sniff; you should be able to pick up strong scents of disappointment and determination with a tangy hint of passive aggressive non-confrontation.

4. At this point the mixture can be refrigerated until later use, slowing the process indefinitely, but resulting in the same final product, nonetheless.

5. Finally, turn up the heat in your apartment as high as the thermostat will go. If you do not have heater, stand in your bathroom with the door shut and the water on as hot as possible. Once you can no longer bear the heat, and your skin aches and pulses with bursts of sweat and stick, use both hands to cup the mixture. Rub it into your body, into every follicle, crevice, orifice. And onto every shadow, freckle, scar, and wrinkle. Squish between each toe from big to little, and behind the ears, in the ears. Smash into your eye sockets until your eyes burn.

6. Let dry.

7. Using fancy body wash that smells of ginger and lilacs or maple syrup wash the mix off your body. Don’t be afraid to touch yourself; find new places you’ve never even heard of before. Sing a Beatles song or Phil Collins. Tell your knee caps that you love them, and your knuckles, too. Lick the last bits slowly off your fingers. Rinse and repeat if necessary.

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Written by ditheringmiss

January 12, 2010 at 7:34 pm

2 Responses

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  1. i know exactly what you’re saying. i also feel like fiction is much more personal for me. i’ve never had the guts to share anything fiction on my blog, and yet – i post confessions and embarrassing real life things with no shame.

    taren

    January 12, 2010 at 9:23 pm

  2. welcome back

    Ashley

    January 13, 2010 at 3:32 pm


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