Freaking WRITING, man!

AAAAAAAAAAAAAUUUUUUUUUGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHH.

I’m trying to write a semi-legit blog right now, guys.  Like the kind where I try to form meaningful sentences that have some kind of emotional impact, thus potentially changing opinions, or at least briefly allowing someone a window into my mind that makes them feel differently for a moment?

Yeah, but that shit doesn’t work anymore.

I haven’t tried to write anything real in so goddamn long, folks.  90% of my "creative energy" goes to vomiting barely-edited bullshit at you guys.  Shit I can’t even bring myself to care about long enough to re-read.  Fleeting shit.  Empty shit.  Liquidy shit that spews out of your ass like milk out of a jug that’s been sitting in the sun except I’m not sure if that really happens because I’ve never tried it but it sounds gross.

I used to be funny.

I know I’m funny now.  I know I’m funnier now.  I know this because I read the things I was so proud of in my teen years, and it doesn’t compare to the bullshit that comes out of me now, even when I’m NOT trying (which, as we’ve established, is ALWAYS).

But back then, I was as funny as I could be.

I used to spend hours whittling my entries down–though usually this involved adding more content, because that’s what teenagers do when they try to edit–for freakin’ HOURS.  I’d work on shit until I felt like it was the best I could create, and it WAS the best I could create.  It was the most my 16-year-old mind was capable of inventing, and that was extremely satisfying.  I knew my shit had flaws, and I knew my following was mostly made up of other 16-year-olds whose writing skills were more-than-marginally below mine, but fuck it, I just liked being liked, and I liked knowing that I’d done my best, and I liked putting effort into something and feeling rewarded.

And now I put effort into something, absolutely fucking hate it, and then feel NO joy, even if people like it, because it’s terrible.  It’s just terrible.

I’m so used to stream-of-consciousing it, guys.  Just tossin that worplane and watching it float into the breeze and wondering if it’ll ever land, but not really giving a shit if it does.

That’s OD for me.

I’m too comfortable here.

It’s like trying to hone your skills as a comedian by making jokes to your mom.  Like she’s ever gonna tell you that you went on for way too long and didn’t really stick to the topic and your metaphors are loose at best, and at worst, disgustingly ineffective.

Nah man.  She’s gonna high five you because she loves you.  And it’s not even that she’s refusing to tell you what you’re doing wrong because she loves you.  She simply doesn’t know, because love is blind, and it makes the people around us seem cooler than they are, and I’m not cool but you guys make me feel cool and when I write for other people I realize how uncool I really am and how little I try and how little I actually know about writing and it fucking blows.  To write practically every goddamn day, and yet a rudimentary glance at my writing skills is enough to show me that I’ve learned nothing.

NOTHING.

Now, hold on, guys.  I’ve learned a lot about myself on this site.  So much that I can’t even conceive of the person I would be without you guys, and I don’t want to, and thinking about how valuable an experience it is to write here makes me tear up a little but we’re NOT GOING THERE TONIGHT.

I’ve learned very little about writing, though.

I let myself stall out and now I’ve decide to write publicly again and I’m resenting the fact that I’m rusty.  Even though what I’ve gained means so much more to me than English skills, ya know?  It’s just hard.  Hard to see how far I’ve wandered away from my supposed dreams.

But FUCK my dreams, and FUCK rustiness, because if I want to write, I’ll write, and if it sucks for a couple years, then it sucks for a couple years.  What of it?  Gotta start somewhere.

Starting is the worst part.

No.  Continuing is the worst part, honestly.

Wish me luck, guys.

Except not really because luck is meaningless.  Send me money so I don’t have to try anymore.