WRITE, RIGHT?
aka, starting somewhere
preface: for reasons a reader may or may not ascertain from reading this, i will be doing my best not to overthink this. in other words, very little editing. also - i make no promises.
pondering what to write about, here.
to have a theme or to not have a theme?
WHAT is the question
what IS the question
what is THE question
what is the QUESTION
WHAT IS THE QUESTION!
that was fun. i like to play with words.
well, sort of.
i mean, yeah, i always like to, but
lately it seems like it’s frustrating far more often than it’s enjoyable. like, i forget that editing is a separate process that takes place after the initial writing.
must push it out perfect from the get go, just so
write right. right?
excusing myself repeatedly - just for a second - gotta check a definition, probably consult a thesaurus:
oxford languages, mirriam webster, word hippo, collins, word reference, bab.la, thesaurus.com, dictionary.com, reddit, quora, hinative, rhymezone, wikipedia…
down the linguistic rabbit holes i go
nuance is sexy, it’s smart to vet your sexual partners, back to the dictionary i go (mirriam webster, collins, oxford, and so on and so forth - you know)
shit. 82 tabs open in this window. better start another. why the fuck is this computer being so fucking slow. yeah, i know. that was a rhetorical question, i’m going to close some windows. first save all the tabs in case i’ve forgotten something important in there. fuck you. maybe i’ll go through all the saved tabs some day and maybe i won’t. right now i’m just trying to focus on what I’m writing, ok? i’m already running late, this wasn’t supposed to take three hours.
ending - option 1:
fuck, finish saving already. why is this taking so long…….
…………….
…………….
seriously?
oh. fuck. fuckinggodamnit, you’ve got to be kidding me. frozen. really?
[forcequit] that was fun.
ending - option 2:
huh? what did you say?
oh. we gotta go? ok, i’m coming in just a sec.
ok! fine! i hear you - now! i get it! i’m fucking coming!
fucking hell. who the fuck cares anyway. [quit]
ending - option 3:
ok. where’s the page i’m writing on. is this it?
nope. maybe this one.
no. shit. oh, ok, here it is.
i don’t know. is this the right word? maybe i better check the definition again.
[28 tabs and 6 words later] fuck. where did the fucking page go again. this is completely ridiculous. too many tabs with the same favicon, i should close all of them except the one where i’m writing.
[comand-x] [comand-x] [comand-x] [comand-x] [comand-x] [comand-x] [comand-x] [comand-x] [comand-x] [comand-x] [comand-x] [comand-x] [comand-x] [comand-x] [comand-x] [comand-x] [comand-x] [comand-x] [comand-x] [comand-x] [comand-x] [comand-x] [comand-x]
wait a minute. what the fuck.
are you fucking kidding me? no. it’s got to be here. must be another window.
oh. only one other window. forgot, i already closed the rest, to speed things up.
wow. godfuckingdamnit. fucking closed my damn page.
good going. nice exercise in futility. all that for nothing. doesn’t matter, gotta get on with things.
i was being too wordy anyway. probably oversharing. but fuck, i kinda liked it.
oh well. just a response to some comment on someone else’s reddit post anyway. probably for the best.
This was the original start to this post. Apparently I decided it needed some kind of preface. In case it’s not apparent (it’s not), I’ve been trying to figure out the who, how, what, why - and possible also when - of me, here. Who do I want to be here, How do I purpose to go about it, What will I write about, and Why do I think anyone wants to read what I have to say in the first place?
Well, the last one’s easy. Various people whose opinion I respect keep telling me I whould write more - presumably where it can be read by others. And then, upon paying for a subscription to an old friend’s Substack recently, the platform informed me that said friend had pledged to be my first paid subscriber should I ever decide to start writing here. Months ago.
So, Andrei, challenge accepted! By the way, it’s raining - meet you at the juice bar in 5? ZAP!
I make no promises. I’m still in the process of overthinking this. Here’s my dilemma: I’ve been pretty focused lately on working through what’s left of the effects my personal assortment of traumas have had on my life, and my being. I’m tired of them holding me back, and eager to experience life without the restraints and adaptations trauma forced my self to put in place. Now, I’m sure there will be plenty more “aha” moments as I continue the process of identifying and sorting the authentic from the trauma-inspired adaptations, but - as I’ve suspected for awhile now - that unadulterated self didn’t exactly go anywhere. She just stopped talking to anyone else. Inside my head though? She never ever shuts the fuck up.
But while I’ve had nothing but positive results from letting her talk out loud to others in recent times, neither of us have forgotten the hand full of slip-ups earlier in life that were anything but. We are still cautious.
Yeah, that’s it. OK, there’s a little more to the dilemma, but, at the moment, I really have been working on this post far longer than I intended (it was supposed to be a quick note!), so I’m just going to leave us all hanging right here for now.
Oh, except for… oh boy. OK, for real this time - the following was the original start to this post! Ha! Quick explanation first: the idea of writing various things from the perspective of my self, if certain aspects of my life had been different, popped into my head. Thought it might be a way to get this here Substack ball of mine rolling:
write a:
journal entry
political or life commentary
autobiographic story
letter
advice column
as myself, if:
my birth mother hadn’t died when I was young
my adoptive mother had been mentally healthy
my father had stood up for me
i’d stayed in new england
hurricane katrina had never happened
i’d had sufficient medical care
my skin wasn’t white
i’d been born in new orleans
A miracle!