An Apology Of Sorts

A new source of things sent me into a paradox once again. This morning I was thinking, how weird it may be, Charlie Brooker inspired me to write. This morning, in an empty attempt to write something professional and therefore not interesting and certainly not funny, I decided to check out whatever else constructed and ordered words have left Mr. Brooker’s typing fingers. There was one article about writing. Ironically Mr. Brooker sometimes has problems coming up with the order of words to make up an article and he told us how useless he is in giving advice about writing. Yet he did give an advice in the article. I understood and recognized the problem of fleeting inspiration and effects and consequences it forced.

I was looking for inspiration so a minute or more I would be feeling the racing touch of my fingers on my keyboard pounding out sentences and the pride of thoughts on paper. Instead I felt incredibly drained and never before so uninspired, it made me want to kick myself in the knees, as suggested only in a different variation. My brain transported into the other wise suggested, but yet not recommended state of nowhere and look there, two paragraphs. Admitted, the conversation evolving in between had me staring with glazed-over eyes while my brain went into overdrive to make sense of the words aimed at me. I tried to explain my unresponsive behaviour, but I couldn’t. I was sure I just lost it.

The irony keeps striking, because the two paragraphs was all that was there. Rereading it I felt satisfied, just not yet enough to call it okay to turn into a blog. Problem is, I’m stuck now. There’s not much more I can think of to write, except for the irony dangling in my face as I think of the two unfinished articles I have in my can waiting to receive an end and the send off to blogger. One belongs in my “Things You Shouldn’t Say” series and one inspired, or would be inspired, on something else Mr. Brooker has released not too long ago. I don’t know how to proceed with either one of the pieces of text so instead I’ll blog this dribble.

In the meantime I’ll try writing my business documents and finishing my last set challenges and raising my plastic cup to Mr. Brooker’s inspiration. See you next Monday, Mr. Brooker. Or maybe tonight on YouTube.
Source: If you want to write, get threatened

My Writing Habits

When I tell people I love writing, they always ask me 'What sorta thing do you write?' and 'You keep a diary?' The answer to the first question is easy: 'I try to write all sorta things, and I've been trying out all sorta things, including songwriting in which I sucked gloriously.' The second question is harder to answer, cause I don't even nearly write in my diary daily. I don't even update my blog that often. What I do is...

I scribble. I put down on paper whatever pops up in my mind. Sometimes it appears online, or in my diary or computer. More often it disappears in my never ending archive spread out all over my possesions. I don't only scribble on paper, but also on other stuff, like on a box in which I keep my monthly tools. Or on my organizer or bag.

The reason why I write? Sometimes to clear my mind. Other times to feel the keyboard under my fingers. And sometimes to practize my handwriting. And more often to just say without using my mouth for which a forum is excellent.

I used to put quite some amounts of time in writing short stories or articles. I've been wanting to do that again, but I don't write these kind of things if I don't know anything interesting to write. I also find it harder these days, to put my thoughts on paper without it losing its meaning or feel. I suppose I should put more time into practizing free writing, without trying to make too much sense. Interesting conversations can sprout from that.

I think I'll keep spreading my words all over the few forums I visit these days. It's the least I can do.

That's it really. So far for being interesting today.

Interestingly enough, I think this blog is the only me-blog with a sensible title.