Saturday, May 25, 2013

Fear of Writing the First Line

First writing prompt from A Year of Writing Dangerously by Barbara Abercrombie:

"What is your metaphor for fear of writing that first line?"


I go back to the world with my lighthouse for this and probably all other metaphors that concern my writing.

Fear of writing the first line means I am stuck in the forest. I can't see that it must end - that if I just keep walking I will emerge on the banks of the road that leads down to the rocky beach and my lighthouse where everyone waits for me. Although in reality I enjoy feeling lost within a forest's borders, able to immerse myself in nature, in my worlds of words that feeling turns into a muffling sense of panic. The trees around me lace close together and block out daylight. They silence the whisper of wind and water. It takes all of my fortitude to drag my baffled gaze down from their branches and look ahead. There are gaps between the trunks of those trees, and if I just keep walking eventually the sunlight will filter down to dapple the forest floor at my feet.

Most of the time when I am stuck in the forest, all I do is sit on a rock and stare into the tangle of dark tree limbs. I cannot break my staring until a bird flits through my field of vision (sudden inspiration), or - best of all - my fox appears to show me the path out again (muse brings me back to a good writing state of mind).

I spent two years working in the woods and loved it (most of the time). But getting stuck in their midst does seem the most apt metaphor I can think of for when I cannot even get one line of writing down.





Monday, May 20, 2013

Sunday, May 19, 2013

Spirit In Pain

It's funny the things we draw from our favorite forms of entertainment. My current obsession is Star Trek Voyager. I'm in the later seasons now, and many episodes are dark and often a bit disturbing. If you know anything about me, you know that I love this. Melodrama and tragedy and characters who seek above all to retain their integrity when all odds are stacked against them - these are my favorite stories. 


"Why do the stars make such a noise? Let me sleep!"

I'm watching an episode right now in which Voyager enters a portion of "chaotic space" where none of the normal rules of space travel apply and they cannot find a way out. Commander Chakotay starts hallucinating both noises and images. Eventually the Doctor figures out that aliens are trying to communicate with him, to tell him something about chaotic space and perhaps how to get out of it. He tries to convince Chakotay to give in to the hallucinations and allow himself to communicate with the aliens. Chakotay is completely overwhelmed by the voices, by visions that are illogical and disjointed. After much cajoling by the doctor and the captain, he gives in to the hallucinations. He finds himself in a vision of spiraling chaos where members of the crew echo back all of his fears at him, the voices are telling him he's crazy, that he'll wind up insane, that he's terrible at his job and ignores his duties... He is overwhelmed by both guilt and the desire to overcome all of this and do what is right.

This is a science fiction tv show that I enjoy watching because it often reflects the best and worst parts of the human condition in a universe many of us probably view as a utopian future for our planet. It's realistic and idealistic all at once.

The weird thing is episodes like this, where I can't even see the fiction any more. What Chakotay goes through in this episodes feels like a slightly dramatized version of what I feel like during attacks of anxiety and depression. I had such an attack yesterday, so perhaps that's why I feel so strongly affected by this tv show right now. Long story short, a cascade of bad things happened to me yesterday and when faced with an important decision after these things happened, I found myself paralyzed by anxiety. It took Dylan talking me through every choice facing me in a calm manner for me to finally choose a direction to go, and even then I didn't feel okay until nearly two hours after I made the decision. 

I call it an attack although I don't think it qualifies as a traditional anxiety attack. It starts when one or two things happen that are disappointing or make me angry. When these things happen one on top of another like this, it starts to build like pressure with no escape valve. I lose my ability to deal with them rationally. I can think about them rationally, but it becomes increasingly difficult to act rationally. Eventually I find myself on the verge of blowing up or breaking down. Yesterday it ended up being a break down.

On Voyager, Chakotay refers to his grandfather who refused to take medication for his genetic disposition to hallucinate. Instead, he says he has "a spirit in pain" and views the hallucinations as a natural phenomenon that he must deal with as they come. As stupid as it is (and I do recognize that it is stupid), I sometimes feel the same way about my "attacks." They are a part of who I am, and, although I loathe them and my inability to drag myself out of them through sheer willpower, I usually feel that they are my due. Christians sometimes talk about unfortunate circumstances being their Cross to bear? I guess that's how I often feel about my anxiety/depression. I do know that I should seek out professional help for this (and I have in the past) and that a course of drugs could go a long way toward eliminating this problem from my life. Sometimes I want this so badly it hurts.

Sometimes I just think I have a spirit in pain.

Saturday, May 18, 2013

The Random Mind of Rachel

Here's something about me:

I prefer to keep most aspects of my life ordered in a logical manner. I understand that this is a losing battle - for instance, how does one keep ones thoughts from straying every which way with each passing whim? It doesn't matter. I strive for logic in all circumstances - it is the nature of my personality. In the past, I've given up this pursuit for various periods of time and it always ends in existential disaster, denial of emotion, and whiplash-inducing mood swings. (Tell me how that makes any sense and you win all of my undying devotion.)

To that end, I write. In physical words - be they on paper or in electronic format - I can find order in chaos. So when I am feeling particularly out of control, I try to bring myself back in line with writing.

Here are some things going on in my life right:

I was finally hired for full time work in customer service. This is a good job for me. I derive a lot of satisfaction from the day to day problem solving that comes with this kind of work. So far none of it is beyond me, and the levels of human stupidity I end up dealing with are relatively easy to handle.

Dylan and I are closing on the house I posted about previously in a month and a half. A lot of drama went into obtaining this house (and it's hardly over). When we tried to negotiate with the seller for roof and other damage repair, they refused to do anything. We made the difficult decision to walk away and ended up embroiled in an interesting bidding war for another house in foreclosure. The same day that we heard our offer had been accepted for this new house, the seller from our original house came back to us with an offer to re-roof if we could match our original offer price. Spoiled for choice, we came back and said yes. (The foreclosed house was beautiful with a ton of character and a huge yard, but we were also going to lose our ability to make money on selling it again in the future - not the case with this first house.) I am beyond excited about getting this house; I think I've moved into the exhausted phase of simply being impatient to move.

I have considering making myself a one year plan to make myself into a healthier person with better habits than I have right now. Mostly I want to do this to prove to myself that I can. I have tried and failed so many times. This is because I am constantly warring between feeling put-upon by strange standards of society to do these things and feeling that I am idiot and need to do them because they are actually good for me. Can you see me rolling my eyes at myself right now? I swear, for someone who tries so hard to live by her own rules of logic, I am truly terrible at it.

Anyway, here's a picture of my cat because she is my baby and what mama doesn't like showing off her pretty little girl? She greeted me with a lot of unusual purring on Mother's Day last weekend.



Something else I've been thinking about...
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Gatsby believed in the green light, the orgiastic future that year by year recedes before us. It eluded us then, but that’s no matter — tomorrow we will run faster, stretch out our arms farther.... And one fine morning —
So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past.
- F. Scott Fitzgerald's "The Great Gatsby"

Love is blindness -

I am obsessed with the soundtrack to Baz Luhrman's The Great Gatsby. I knew I would be before it was ever released because Baz is my favorite film director of all time (Moulin Rouge is always number one or two in my favorite movie list and his version of Romeo and Juliet is probably in the top ten) and he uses the most amazing music in his movies. When I saw the first trailer for The Great Gatsby with its opening notes of "No Church in the Wild" by Jay-Z and Kanye West playing over roaring 20s images of flappers and alcohol and fast cars, I almost died. I really think if Fitzgerald were alive today, he would've appreciated this take on his story with its crazy modern music, anachronistic costuming, and constant assault of color and emotion.

Right now, this is my favorite song from the soundtrack. Baz always introduces me to great music I had no idea existed. I love Jack White's version of this song, but I did not know it was a U2 song:

U2


Jack White


To no one's surprise, I like both versions equally. Bono's tragic, melodramatic version just as well as Jack's charged, primal screaming.