It's important to remember

I haven't really written a lot lately.

There's a lot that I haven't done lately.

I haven't written.
I haven't ...

Well that got depressing real fast. I may like lists, but I think I'll stay away from that one for now.
Funny, how playing "I have never" is so much fun around friends. But by myself it's just kind of pathetic. Like a deflated balloon caught in a tree.

ANYway...

It's important to remember why I write, and I have forgotten for a while. But that post I mentioned jolted something back into place in my mind, and I think it's coming back.

The passion.
The fury.
The drive.
The joy...

Because that's why I write. All those trite little cliches that writers try not to use, they're kind of true.

Writing is my Anti-Drug... well, my Anti-Depressant would be more accurate, I guess, since I've never done illegal drugs...

I write because it's how I worship.
Writing is how I pray.
Writing is how I think thoughts that make sense,
And how I keep the darkness at bay.
Writing brings order to a chaotic spirit,
And it brings reason to the illogical nonsense that tries to pull me under.

Writing is how I show love.
It's how I unveil my heart.
Writing makes me vulnerable, and in my vulnerability I see how strong I am.
Writing is how I commune with the great thinkers of this time, times past, and times to come.

Writing keeps me sane,
Well, it at least leads me dancing to the kind of crazy that creates instead of destroying.

Writing is like breathing.
Those times when it is most difficult to accomplish are when it is the most important.
Like my heartbeat,
It keeps things flowing so smoothly that I don't even notice it until it becomes irregular.

How I've missed this!
This joining together of words,
This flow of one thought to the next--
The Symbols and the Power.

With this writing I do...
What?
Anything.
Everything?

What glorious potential!
I am halved when I miss out on this part of my very self.
Not writing is worse than neglecting a hobby or a gift,
It is self-mutilation.
Strong words, I know.
But maybe that's why I can't seem to leave my poor thumb alone.
Maybe that's why my prayers have been so difficult to speak.

Not writing, it's depriving myself of the very tool I need.
It's like trying to paint a portrait with my forehead, instead of the set of artist's brushes I could use.
It's a self-lobotomy, depriving myself of this medium, this vehicle for thought.

All those times in my past that I've felt alone in the dark--
They were times I wasn't writing.
Is it a symptom, or a cause?
Does it matter? Of course, but perhaps not as much as I think.
If gritting my teeth and smiling can make me feel happy,
Perhaps pushing through the blank page and writing can make me feel creative.
What are feelings for, after all.

I'm feeling more productive already.
Writing is more than how I think,
It's how I process my feelings.
Without writing, I allow myself to become a slave to my emotions.
Writing is how I and my emotions become reconciled, and we work together to create joy.

Isn't that what writing should be?
Creation.
Delight.
Joy.

Read titles too...

As promised from my last post...

If you want to write, you must first read.

But don't be picky. Read everything.
And I mean, everything.

Read the excellent literature your English teacher told you to.
Read the "fluff" your teacher sniffed at.

Read the poetry, of every kind and variety you can lay your hands on.
Read blank verse, and try to understand all of it. If you can't understand it, feel it.

Read children's books, and take time to look at the pictures.

Read coffee-table books.

Read the graffiti in the bathroom stalls and in the underpass on your way to work. And wonder what it meant to the person who put it there.

Read post-it notes, and grocery lists, and business cards, and imagine the people behind them.

Read warning labels, and ingredient labels, and instruction labels, and those labels on the inside of clothes that dig into your side and make you wonder if this will fit after you dry it.

Read the bottom of your shoe.

Read bill-boards, and advertisements, and instruction manuals.

Read catalogs, bills, envelopes, and magazines. What will become of them, when they are discarded? What will they become?

Read calendars, planners, and itineraries, but don't let them rule you.

Read magazines, ads included.

Read autobiographies, and biographies--take to heart the difference between how people saw themselves and how other people saw them. Then decide how that knowledge should shape you.

Read the Bible, preferably in several translations. And the Qur'an, the Apocrypha, Kitab-i-Aqdas, Tipaka, The Book of Mormon, and every other text used throughout humanity's history to guide their actions and thoughts. Read them with open eyes, heart, and mind, knowing that an essential part of the Human Condition is the pursuit of Truth.

Read foreign languages, even if you're not sure of what they mean.

Read newspapers--online, in print, and satirical.

Read blogs you agree with--and blogs you disagree with.

Read fiction--sci-fi, fantasy, historical, and every other kind as well.

Read textbooks.

Read scripts, playbills, Shakespeare, and acting manuals.

Read the dictionary.

Read the encyclopedia.

Stuff as much information into your mind as you think you can possibly hold, about everything around you. Become passionate about knowledge--hunger after it, be voracious! The written word holds so much power--and it's all around us.

If you want to write, the best way to learn how do to that well is to read.

Are you ready?

I love reading.

No, wrong word. I don't love reading. I read. I read like I breathe, like I eat. Reading satisfies an innate hunger--it is an automatic function that almost cannot be helped. My eyes see words and my mind automatically processes them and attempts to discern their meaning.

One of the things I read today was this. And it was beautiful, and inspiring, and reminded me of several such things I've read before, and made me want to do similar posts.

I just wanted to forewarn you about what may be coming... It won't all be about writing... but, well...

Let's just say, I accidentally asked for a mocha with 3 shots of espresso this morning--I had no idea they usually put 2 in them already!! I just walked up to the counter feeling like the walking dead I stayed up too late last night to watch (see what I did there? it's a show...), and now I feel a little more jittery than anticipated...

Hence the stream-of-I-forgot-how-to-spell-that-word... what was I talking about?

Hey, new blogpost ideas! Yay!!!

;)