I've been plugging away on Atlas Shrugged. It sucks. I found so many things in The Fountainhead to be thought provoking and beautiful, but Atlas Shrugged... it's a giant soap box and so incredibly unbelievable. From a literary standpoint, it jumps for the nearest asshole and licks it dry. Philosophically... well, it does develop things from The Fountainhead a lot further... but I liked the way The Fountainhead made me think, whereas this bludgeons me over the head with it's ideas to try hammering the points home. Regardless, I'm about halfway through it now, and I've decided to read another book alongside it to break up the monotony. I can go maybe 10-15 pages in it before I need to take a break. I put down about 50 pages today, and that's nothing short of a miracle for me.
But the other book I was co-reading alongside this was a graphic novel that a friend gave me about a year and a half ago, called "The Alcoholic." The irony isn't lost on me either. But it was a little less than 140 pages and I read it a couple of sittings (mostly I made myself stop reading it so I could go back to Atlas Shrugged). I wholeheartedly recommend reading this if any of you get the chance. I know they have it at major bookstores and you could probably read it in one sitting while there, so no need to even buy it O.o
But, I won't exactly comment on relating to it. But a quote near the end really struck me, and it made me think about my own current situations. And maybe what Jonathan A. realized is what I need to as well.
So I need to figure out what to read next as I continue on with Atlas Shrugged, and since my personal library is patchy with either odds n ends books in series that I want to read but don't have the first books in (at strong recommendation from friends I picked them up since they were so cheap), spread out amongst three different places currently, or books that I honestly just don't feel like touching at the moment, I'm not sure what to pick next. Also, with my book project that I've listed on fb, I figure what I read next should be something for that, which rules out going to a public library.
Anyways. I hate it how every time I try to write I immediately lock up unless there's insanely copious amounts of booze involved. The last few things I wrote? I barely remember writing them.
So I cracked a little bit; I absolutely HATE reading advice from authors to other hopeful authors, but I took a peak at a few things in hopes of getting back on track. A site had several different authors post their 10 rules of writing, and this just reinforced my belief that an artist can't fucking tell another artist how the fuck to create.
"write in the morning/write whenever you feel best, write before you go to sleep,"
"never drink and write/ remember all the above rules can be done with whiskey"
"don't go into a lot of physical description / your audience needs to know where you are"
etc, etc, etc... everybody's lists conflicted with everyone else's except for basic rudimentary shit that everyone should know; write often, push yourself, and edit the fuck out of things. Derp.
One thing that stood out in my mind though, was someone said "Don't wait for inspiration, write without it, push yourself." (paraphrased)
And I'm not sure how I feel about that, because while I don't want to say that I'm "burned out" on writing, I certainly have no desire... to do anything. I need to get that little push in the right direction, because otherwise I just don't want to. That isn't an isolated writing problem, it's a life problem.
And I've tried to push myself; I've sat there at my desk, a short story open where I have the epilogue and the end started (...they actually go in that order, it makes sense upon reading), and I try. But I put a word and I lock up. I CAN'T do it. Euphoric Tomorrow not getting published certainly hurt my motivation amidst everything else that just shat on life in that month, but the biggest problem leading to this is that I can't write anymore because every idea I have is related to the past couple of years.
So I sit here, listening to sad songs, songs that I feel like should make me cry, but not songs that really make me cry, because I just want the emotion to bubble up to the surface, to hold on to it, to not actually get the release because then all the feelings just disappear again and I'm back to where I started.
/emo (kinda)
It was good to get away for a bit, but now everything is piled back up again. I mean, not that I have a lot going on in my life, but the fact that the moment I'm by myself, I immediately fall into this... loathing. Of myself, of others, I'm not completely sure.
She's been in my dreams a lot lately and I hate it. A couple of days ago I remember I dreamed I was in a movie theater, with Scott, watching 500 Days of Summer (which is strange, because though I'd watch this movie with Kris or damn near any of my other friends, I wouldn't volunteer it with him), and I see them in a few rows ahead of us. The theater looks like it's been TP'd, and some people begin to leave even though the movie still plays; this is when I see them, after people start to leave. Anyways, they move up a few rows, closer to me and Scott, and I feel panicked. I remember he drops down to one knee and I just turn and run.
Another, the one I had last night / this morning. I'm not sure if it was a string of dreams or if it was one large one, but everything I remember involved her in some way. But at first I remember wondering why she hasn't been on anything in ages and learning that she'd lost her job. I remember somehow knowing he'd left her, then she was now a lesbian. Uh. Don't ask me either. And I was insanely relieved about this last part and I remember talking to my friends about how I had some chance as we were taking the curve into Adams. Again, uh wut? There was also something about tornadoes when I got back home, and there were several that merged together to form a larger one, and I remember dad yelling something. I have no fucking clue why I'm having such strange dreams, or why they're focused on those two topics.
I went to bed thinking about what I mentioned though; why she hasn't been on in ages. It's a curiosity but an answer I probably don't want to know, so I remain afraid to find out and figure I'm better off in ignorance.
But I woke up this morning about 8:30 a.m., which is like... roughly 6 hours off of when I wake up. And almost immediately after closing my eyes, I just couldn't get a particular photograph out of my head. I was thrown into rage even though I've seen it one once before, and I literally could not get it off my thoughts, its like it was burned into my retinas, and it took Maryiah's best efforts to calm me down... and even then... uggh. I don't have any reserve of booze; I finished that all off last Friday and haven't bought anymore. Which is good, because I probably would've poured something this morning.
This is the closest I've ever come to feeling an emotion I've never felt before, I think.
I've been with Maryiah all day, and honestly, of all the people I could be with, I only want to be around her right now, because she's the only one that knows me well enough to provide sanity. I'm legitimately scared of her not being around right now.
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This was all written a few days ago and the point I was trying to make is lost even to me now. But today sparked something within me, something I plan to delve into deep in the next few days, should this current emotion stay with me. Because I'm ready to turn some Sunshine on the past, to forget it all and move on.
Finale to come soon, unless something changes my mind.
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