Hitting the Wall
Okay, I've officially hit the first wall on this
ambitious, year-long journey of words. And it shows
no sign of crumbling. I've spent the last hour or
more hitting my head against the wall for some
worthwhile subject to write about, and all I have
is a headache.
Perhaps it has something to do with lack of
external stimuli. I've been a hermit this week,
having very little contact with the outside world.
Actually, I suppose that's something of a
mischaracterization—I've had several job
interviews, have run lots of errands, even joined a
new Star Trek club—but much of the week has
been spent cloistered in my apartment, jacked into
the Internet, researching the job and freelance
writing markets. Even the television has been
largely silent (which, I suppose, can't be all
bad).
As a result, I'm getting a little stir-crazy.
It's probably a natural part of the readjustment
phase after dropping out of law school last week.
My routine for the past four months was pretty
rigid and intense. I saw the same classmates every
weekday. My daily life had a certain
rhythm—even if it was the thudding drums of a
forced march. Now it's all freeform. Finger
painting on a blank canvas. Serial music as life's
soundtrack.
And I suppose, after spending the last six years
with Michelle, I still haven't fully gotten used to
living alone. It's not that I'm depressed, it's
just strange. Too quiet. I find myself talking
aloud for no reason, a quirk that Europa has
seemingly picked up. She never used to be a vocal
cat, but since I moved here, she meows all the
time.
The solution to my cabin fever is movement.
Activity. Action. Keep experiencing experiences.
Let the stimuli stimulate. Don't stop long enough
to gather moss. Case in point: While today's
writing hasn't been my most eloquent, it has proven
that the best way to tear down the wall of writer's
block is to just... write.
©2003 Michael
Strickland ALL RIGHTS
RESERVED
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