Dry

Look at me - I haven't had anything to say since February 6th? Doesn't seem right. I mean, hear I am, 2:30 in the morning, and I have a hell of a lot to say, but for whatever reason, I haven't been saying it. And it's not just because it's been 10 days. If you look back over the last two months you'll see...that there's been very little word from me. Yes that rhymes, and no, it was not intentional, and yes that absolutely means that I have mad poetic skills.

I think about what it is that makes my writing dry out. Well, first, I can blame the fact that a lot of stuff has been happening, stuff that keeps me away from my keyboard and the opportunity to wonder about the rest of society.

Second, and this maybe makes it a little sick even - things haven't been that bad. I hate to admit it but being a little down, having stuff going on that makes you upset or angry or, for me, contemplative in a brooding sort of way, makes you write more. And better. Shit! Yes! Better too. At least that's how it works for me. I know that it totally sucks, that you have to be suffering or tortured in some way in order to express yourself better, but I can't help that it's true. There's something terribly wrong with that. Or maybe I'm just having a little cause-effect mix-up here; perhaps because things are OK/good, I probably end up spending less time at home and in front of the keyboard, which means I write less, and so, in a way, the writing less is directly effected by the lack of keyboard-access time rather than by the emotional state of my psyche.

Whatever, maybe it doesn't matter either way, but what does matter is that whenever I write less I get PISSED OFF. It's the strangest thing. It's not like I'm a prolific writer anyway. It's not like this is my job and I've been published and now without a steady stream of content I'm suddenly broke or have a reason to get depressed because my life-blood is sapped. But at the same time, it's important enough to me that when I do it less I feel crappy about it. I wonder - where is that Ruvym I know and love who has so much to say about so little? I don't know! I don't know! Bring him back! And then when I finally do get the chance to sit down and work on something then I have the next stage of having to deal with the quality of what I produce. I was talking about this earlier today, but it's like writing, more than anything else in the world, has the ability to bring me rally high and to drop me really low. If I put time and effort into something and after a few hours I look at it and think it's crap, I feel totally awful, like a complete failure, like I'll never write anything decent ever again. But then if I manage to create something that's not too bad, that I'm kind of happy with, then I get this crazy feeling of having conquered the world, all from some silly little short story or scene I wrote. The extremes sort of don't really make sense to me, but that's just how it is.

I really don't know what that says about me. Maybe that I'm neurotic? Or I'm bipolar? Maybe both. Maybe neither. But rest assured, I don't have nearly as extreme a set of feelings when it comes to blog writing. I just think this strange Internet place is detached enough for me that I'm able to just have a good time with it and not judge myself based on whether or not I like what I wrote. For that, I appreciate this space. That still doesn't address my "problem" of not having the time/desire to write, but I just thought I should put it all on the table.