The Elements Of Style . . . no longer
I used to write gooder. I readed over the old posts on this blog me and my friends writed and things used to sound more betterer. May be their used to be more to say.
Ok, so it isn't that bad. But I don't like what or the way I write these days. My thoughts feel all lumpy, if they have any substance at all. More often, I can't even find a thought worth writing in my jumbled-up and cluttered head. Every day, I think, "today I will write something." And I visit this blog often in case someone else's writing inspires something. But lately nothing comes. Or if it does, it is messy and inarticulate. I can't ever quite figure out what to write about and when I do write something, I reread it and delete it.
Even as I am writing this, I hate what I am writing. I'm not saying anything! I can't even quite get across what I am getting at. Oh dear.
We started this blogging experiment to inspire us to write. And that is the only reason I am not going to delete this post too. Maybe another discussion about how we write, why we write, will inspire me to say something and to say it well (or good even).
Ok, so it isn't that bad. But I don't like what or the way I write these days. My thoughts feel all lumpy, if they have any substance at all. More often, I can't even find a thought worth writing in my jumbled-up and cluttered head. Every day, I think, "today I will write something." And I visit this blog often in case someone else's writing inspires something. But lately nothing comes. Or if it does, it is messy and inarticulate. I can't ever quite figure out what to write about and when I do write something, I reread it and delete it.
Even as I am writing this, I hate what I am writing. I'm not saying anything! I can't even quite get across what I am getting at. Oh dear.
We started this blogging experiment to inspire us to write. And that is the only reason I am not going to delete this post too. Maybe another discussion about how we write, why we write, will inspire me to say something and to say it well (or good even).
posted by tjh2 at
4:29 PM
4 Comments:
I know what you mean. I've been frustrated by my inability to do anything other than make a list lately. I also get sick of my own style when I'm not making a list. I think it might be because I write so much for work -- as do you. I hate the kind of writing that I do for the job too. It's so formulaic. I fear I've lost my ability to write something interesting, original, worth reading.
I do hope this feeling doesn't stop you from posting. I wish we would all post more often. I really enjoy reading all the posts on here -- even the more mundane topics.
Well I certainly haven't been burning up the keyboard lately (as evidenced by the fact that I am joining this conversation three days late). I too have spent a great deal of time feeling like my head is full of jello when trying to write anything of susbtance on the blogs. But I think it is important that the desire to write is still there, and as long as it is, following that need/desire to wherever it leads is even more important. (Okay, that isn't very coherent). Bottom line is there are no judgments here on what or how anyone writes. Some days/entries will be better than others. THe flow/groove will come back. I am certain of it. It is just harder to feel it when you are extremely busy and/or stressed as we have all been in different ways lately.
I am more of a passive observer on this blog than an active partipant, so no judgement from me. I can't even write a comment without rewriting several times. :)
I think its ok to be jumbled sometimes. Sometimes that's just the way you feel. It's honest. Goodness knows I get intimidated from the crazy articulation coming from you three! And I don't know about you, but since you know who arrived, I feel like I can go days without an adult, coherent thought. What sound does the cow make? Mooooo.
I went flying the other day. I decided to learn how to fly, and had my first lesson. Unbeknownst to me the instructor, all of 22, had planned to allow me to fly with no training whatsoever for a full hour. I was gob smacked. I am a nervous flier for the most part. I fly often and have recently decided to log all of my miles on a single airline so that i can get all the privileges flying often is supposed to get you...lounges, crunchy apples, uncomplicated no strings attached sex with strangers...but the flight itself terrifies me. I think mostly its the turbulence and an overwhelming belief that most people, including the pilots, are idiots in the air. This is not something i believe on the ground, only in the air. Perhaps its the mind numbing illogicality of flight that forces me to twist myself into believing that everyone on an airplane ought to be wearing a helmet and a drool bag (I am not sure there are such things as drool bags but if there aren't i see a huge market...especially pre-flight)who knows? I am convinced that the pilots are either stoned or too interested in discussing porn to recognize the mysterious creak,the far too flexible wings or to read a basic weather report. So i work very hard to be their eyes and ears. I can't keep track of the number of times i have reported potential danger to stewards and stewardesses on flights "The United book says the maximum cruising altitude for this plane is 40,000 feet and i couldn't help but notice on the screen there that we are at 42,000...I am ALARMED that the plane might implode shortly...could you please inform the pilot?" or "Should you really be serving rare beef at 38,000 feet?" or "I'll have a bloody mary and can you tell me what the chances of a mid-air collision over North Dakota are...cause i have been monitoring the cockpit communications since we took off and i am certain we will be involved in one very shortly cause the pilot turned left when he should have turned right". I think, for the most part, the people sitting around me are pleased to have such an intrepid and aware passenger looking out for their well being...but then again most of them aren't sentient enough to care that I helped them avoid certain death. And so they sit lobotomized, grazing on old nippy crackers and fiesta mix being shown happy images on small screens completely unaware of the terrible fate that would have befallen them had I not had my wits about me.
Where was I...oh yeah, so to get over this fear i decided to learn all about the control of the airplane so that when the pilots on one of my flights finally burnt out, i could take over. Kent...the 22 year old man child with a Tom Cruise face and Goose physique turned to me and said...the controls are yours, I froze. It was really only for a moment I am sure, but I sat there not saying much of anything staring at the yoke. Finally, after thinking for a moment and hearing Kents sober refrain "are you gonna puke?"I grabbed the controls with the kind of resolve I reserve for breaking up with a girlfriend and clocking the local drive thru, and i flew. There i was, for an hour, in complete control of a small single engine plane...flying over snowy fields and icy lakes, in tails winds and through turbulence. I don't have a clear recollection of most of it...but i do remember, after landing, that before i left the plane, i felt cool air on my face and with a single pass of my glove, wiped the small dab of drool from the edge of my mouth with a smile.
Nothing about being a lawyer...
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