Lately, my funny bone has been tucked somewhere up under my ass and I can’t seem to find it with two hands and a flashlight. It’s sad, really, because when I start getting too serious, life just isn’t as much fun. I don’t know how many of you go through depression, but I fight the demon fairly regularly. Most of the time, I win, but it can take days and sometimes weeks. I have to have a trigger to go into depression, something such as too godamned much homework, constant frustrations of job hunting, and the fucking tax man. When I get depressed, I don’t write unless I have to and I certainly don’t talk to people very much. I withdraw into myself. I heard that is not normal for an extrovert such as me. But then, who the hell ever figured out that any kind of depression is normal? Are those brilliant people making a lot of money, because if they are, I want to ride that gravy train? I can make up stupid shit, too.
Back on topic (always thinking up ways to make money. It’s my Achilles). In just the last week, I’ve had two papers to write, 3 to 5 pages in length, about the books I read the first week in school. I managed those, along with the massive reading and now two more books for next week. Yea, grad school is fun, and Not Easy, but I’m such a stubborn bitch, I’m going to make it through. Even if I pull all my hair out and have to walk the graduation platform bald. I will strut my bald self up that aisle and ‘pretend flip’ my hair while accepting that degree and vowing Never to step foot in another fucking institution of higher learning as long as I live. Yes, it will be a proud day for me and my family. Well me. My family may be hiding behind their ceremonial programs, pretending their graduate has not come forward yet. Keep in mind, I am bald at this point, and ‘pretend hair flipping’. ‘Nuff said.
So, I miss writing just for the pure joy of it. I’ve decided to put yet another little morsel on my daily plate, in order to blend some balance back into my dull and boring existence. (poor pitiful me….get out your little violins). I read in a book called, Writing Down the Bones by Nathalie Goldberg (thanks for the referral Nancy!) that you should set aside some time every day to write. And by writing, the author means to write with wild abandonment, not worrying about structure or spelling or even page borders. She says just to write. It’s called Writing Practice. I enjoyed her book, and am convinced that this is something I need to do, so each morning I will grab a cup of coffee and just write my little heart out for half an hour. Then I will start my day. What do you all think about that? Waste of time or good idea? Does anyone out there already do this, and if so, how’s it working for you?
As for the sketching, I don’t have a plan to sketch every day, yet. I can’t start too many new things at once or I am doomed to fail. Anyone wants to join me in this writing adventure, email me. Terri.firstname.lastname@example.org
We can swap ideas or just bitch and moan. Couldn’t hurt. I’m hoping this extra writing every day will help in several ways, one being to stave off that demon called depression. We shall see.
Film at eleven.
That’s a rap.
After while crocodile.
You hang up first…..
No, you hang up first….
(Image from Google Images)