I am not a writer. So if I'm not a writer, I can't be besieged by writer's block, right? Well, how come I am then, Mr. Semantics?!
All these post ideas, all this time, and no words.
I mean I COULD just write posts that are really straight forward and to the point, but that's no fun. I want to make up words and write sentences that are "too long". I want to tumble down the linguistical grassy knolls with a witty lover and get myself private bits-deep into the ugly synonym swamps of the West Germanic heritage. I seek to subdue the lingua franca and inherit the world in a language that is not my native one, and I want to carry on the storytelling legacy by reciting my own measly life adventures in a way that evokes joy, emotions and preferably, a little laughter here and there.
So, you know. No pressure.
Side note, I'm this far into this post and Grammarly is already shouting at me to change eight "writing issues", of which nature's I cannot see until I pay them 123 dollars upfront, or 30 dollars a month. I, on my individual vocabulary quest, should, of course, accept this terminological teacher's hand on my shoulder, but I will not! Because I'm crazy and puzzling in my life choices! Hee!
Is this were I start caring about what Grammarly is trying to tell me? Naw! Another day!
Back to my main objective - blogging about blogging. I hear it's a lucrative business. What? So this kind of blogging about blogging ISN'T the lucrative kind? Oh well, just like the ways I do everything then; unpaid, unwanted, and just good enough for me because I made it.
And you know what? There's nothing wrong with living life that way as long as it makes you happy!
BUT! Back to my main objective once again. I procrastinate, I collect ideas and roll around haunted by mosquitoes in the grass to get that good snapshot of what an absolute trainwreck the old neglected vegetable patch in the garden is now compared to the mowed lawn.
Then I go inside again, patch up my wounds and... you know, do anything else than write. For days. Because writing is hard. And then, suddenly, I realise I haven't posted in two weeks. Again! Dangit! I am going to blame it on the complex nature of man and our kind's approach to deadlines, aka, "my humanity makes me procrastinate!".
Trainwreck. But the bumblebees love it, so win!
- 40 minutes of silence-
Okay, so I'm back. I took the time to read up on procrastination, snapped a few photos, got myself cookies, cleaned the kitchen counters and googled redcurrant recipes instead of writing. What were we talking about? Oh, right, procrastination...
As Monty Python says; GET ON WITH IT!
What I am trying to say is that I need to get my writing shit together. Just do it, just like I am right now. Because it's fun, and doing fun things makes your life better. So writing should make my life better. Why am I avoiding it then? Now is the time you say; "Just like you're avoiding dealing with your eating habits, your health issues, your come-and-go depression, your childhood traumas and painting that dang kitchen because you know that when you've done that, you have to work on the curtains and that's going to be a bitch in the kitchen?".
I mean, you didn't have to get so SERIOUS... but... yeah. All of the above.
The point of this post isn't really to promise you or me anything in particular. It's just what I happened to think about today. And a post came out of it! It just happened!
Have I cured it?! Have I?!