Hydromatic!

It's getting harder and harder to come up with ideas the less I write. I feel like that's not the way it should work. I think I should build up writing potential by not writing so that when I do write I have all these ideas and all these thoughts that are just dying to get out onto the page. That way I just sit down and BAM! my fingers fly across the keys like...really fast things. Lightning! I meant to say Lightning! Greased Lightning even, so you know it's super fast.

Scroty McBoogerballs

When you're a kid and you don't know what to write adults always say 'Just write "I don't know what to write"' and it doesn't make sense because why on earth would you do something so pointless. Then as you get older you see the merit in such an exercise, but I've come to learn that writing about not knowing what to write gets pretty boring pretty quickly when you do it everyday. I long for an idea, something to expand upon that comes to fruition in a clever and poignant climax. But that doesn't seem to happen anymore.

Is it me? Am I unable to attract a nice, sensitive idea that will treat me well? Or am I just too lazy to actually find a good one when I have an acceptable one already in the bag?

Stages

When I was younger I used to only write when I was upset, it would allow me to compartmentalize my thoughts and actually realize what I was feeling instead of just feeling it and being confused. The only problem is writing when you're upset doesn't exactly lend itself to proper grammar and I would end up with a page full of incomplete sentences and half-thoughts. Not the most desirable outcome when one wants to continue writing for the purpose of being read, but at least it was a start. After that I would only ever write to better my penmanship, an exercise my dad thought important but at this point I believe he uses conventional methods less than I do and is captivated by the keys. Then came college, and the only reason I wrote is because I was forced to (now of course I could say that I had the choice to not write and fail out of college but that wasn't really a choice I found desirable).

So here sit I, still in the pupae stage of the page. What will emerge from my cocoon? Perhaps a cockroach, perhaps.

Alright back to writing, keep up the momentum, day two...

Why am I so tired? I had like two sips of wine and it knocked me on my ass. It didn't even get me drunk it just made me tired. Lame.

But enough about me, tell me about yourself. Where are you from? What do you do? Did you once eat the meat of a syphilitic donkey just to stay alive while you were lost in the middle east? No? That's a good thing.

Sister Act 2

I just lost the cosmic calender game of connect 4 I was playing, and the sad part is that I didn't realize I was playing until I lost. I guess technically it's more like tic-tac-toe since I circle the date whenever I write and I put an X in the box when I don't, but for the analogy to apply the rules would have to be the same and I would have had to write yesterday. So what it's really like is a game of tic-tac-toe with a board that's 5 x 7 yet only has 30 playable spaces and each space must be played in sequential order, also you can never win but you can lose. Yeah, if there's a game like that then that's what I was playing...and I lost.

Basically what happened is I lost my groove, I was sick on Tuesday and with my illness being right on the toes of an entire weekend where I didn't write I got out of the habit.

So just like Whoopi before me, it's time to start writing again!

Every time...

I'm like a child, so excited about my new toy that I have been wanting for months. And when I finally get it it's amazing, and I play with it non-stop. I bring it everywhere so that I don't have to be without it for even a moment. Then one day I leave it at home, and maybe a few days after that I don't even pick it up. Then comes a time, no specific time but lets say perhaps April 17 & 18 when I don't play with my toy for a whole weekend and I don't even realize I miss it.

So it goes with object after object, and thing after thing until you finally realize you have an entire shed full of things and ideas that never went anywhere because you couldn't keep focused for 20 minutes a day and that's why you never got good at anything.

Writing is a lot like sex, if you wait too long you're no longer in the mood and you go to sleep unsatisfied.

This was funny though.

I'm tired, and I forgot. So how about you take: some writers block, a whole lot of Blizzard entertainment, some nostalgia and a pinch of distraction, maybe a little more distraction, why are you being so stingy with the distraction? it's not like it's expensive just throw the whole can in there. OK now put it in the oven and I'll see you tomorrow.

Who is really willing?

I try not to write about the same things over and over but I've come to realize that it's inevitable especially when I'm freeform writing every day. A common topic of mine is writing about the nature of writing, specifically, having writers block. But I don't care about that right now, because right now my knee is shaking, I can't keep my hand still if I hold it out, and my pupils are dilated. I have become physically addicted to the adrenaline that Starcraft II has convinced my brain to force my glands to create.

No wait, let me start at the beginning:
It was a glorious summer day on Rio Vista Drive that fateful Monday, June 20 1983. Scratch that, too far back. >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> My friend and co-worker Jamelle decided to tell me that he has 2 friends who work for Blizzard, and they have been playing Starcraft II, which is awesome but does not affect me in any way because they are HIS friends and he doesn't even have a beta key. So poop. But then wait, what's this? I come into work one day and he decides to tell me the "Friends and Family" keys have been released! and each employee gets...4! Which again does not affect me at all. *Frowny Face* So I'm patient and I'm patient and eventually I decide that I'll just buy the game when it comes out. But you already know that I got one since the game isn't out yet and I've been playing, hold on I'm getting to that part. Finally my good buddy, my favorite IT guy, the coolest dude in the school emails me and tells me he has 1 extra beta key, but another co-worker and I have to duke it out. So I'm preparing myself for the worst and trying to figure out a fair way to decide who gets it (I was thinking rock paper scissors but my roommate suggests we should play a game of Starcraft 1 and the winner gets it), when all of a sudden I get a response email saying "Kelly can have it" BAM! now there are 2 coolest kids in school. But our story is not over yet, because at a certain point in my playing career I get an email from Blizzard giving me another Beta Key! My cup runneth over! Of course I give it to my friend who let me have the first one because he's awesome. But the entire point of this story is that I just heard a rumor that everyone is getting another Beta Key, so the question becomes: Who wants to give me a BJ?

Don't worry, I didn't piss myself

Running as quickly as possible to the bathroom I am relieved at the anticipation of relieving myself. I have waited till the last second to pee because I had to make a few last minute changes for my boss, but sometimes the waiting makes the actual excretion so much better. There is always a ceremony I run through that has become so habitual it borders on a prerequisite: close the door, lock the door, walk to the urinal, unzip, look at door to double check it's locked, and finally pull myself out to evacuate...myself. But wait, what's this? Today of all days, I have decided to wear those boxers with the button on the fly, and while distracted, a button is a difficult simple machine. Why in the crap are there buttons on boxers anyway? Most boxers with buttons are well made all around and don't open up unexpectedly, the only boxers that need buttons are the ones who would be too cheap to put a button on them in the first place. Freaking boxer designers.

What's a good Cat pun?

I'm like a cat, stay with me on this I'm going somewhere. As I was writing I happened to look down to see my laser pointer on my desk. Society tells me a human would put it away in its proper place, but I decide to pick it up and play with it. Society also tells me most people would play with it by pointing it at things and reveling at the small point of red light, but I point it at my desk and try to catch it, like my own personal silly cat video. (Normally I would post a video here but there are no cat videos that have not been seen hundreds of thousands of times on the internet, I checked.)

Now I realized that I didn't write yesterday after making such a big deal the day before that about how I didn't write on the day before THAT, still with me? That's OK. The reason I didn't write is because I spent the day in Temecula wine "tasting" with some friends and I was expecting not to write since we left the house at 8am and I got back this morning.

Wine tasting is an interesting observation on human nature, it's one of those impossible standards we hold ourselves to. Traditionally wine tasting is actually just tasting it: smelling it, holding it in your mouth, inhaling so air will pass through it and finally spitting it out. Nowadays nobody does that anymore because why would you waste a perfectly legitimate excuse to get drunk? So people come from all over the world to a grouping of wineries to let loose and drink some delicious wine. The problem comes when a so called "high class" activity is mixed with alcohol, because people don't act as society deems appropriate while they are imbibing. So people travel for miles and miles to engage in an activity and then when they do said activity they are scoffed at for doing it. Ridiculous humans.

Out of the Blizzard and into the Blizzard

Damnit sonuva mother-god damnit! So close, I was so fucking close to-
OK so I got seven days into the month, which isn't exactly close to a whole month, but I was feeling it, I was in the groove, I was all ready to do an entire month's worth of posts. I had an idea written down yesterday and everything but NO! and do you know what stopped me? Freaking Starcraft! The thing I've really been trying to get into but haven't been able to yet because I'm no good. Well the othger day I became addicted apparently because I completely forgot about posting, it wasn't like I kept reminding myself and I just never had the motivation to actually do it, no I COMPLETELY forgot about it. I didn't even remember till this morning. Freaking videogames, freaking Blizzard with their awesome gameplay and sweet new graphics and amazingly super new features. *Sigh* My Warlock is getting lonely.

Sleep?

Or post?
That's not a fair question, because when I could have been writing I was playing, reading, watching and cooking. So the real question becomes: Procrastination? or post?
and as always procrastination wins, but this is really funny.

"I don't be ticklin' or nothing"

There are a few things in life which are extremely pleasurable to the point of being sexual with no aspect of sexual gratification whatsoever. These feelings tread ever so slightly on the line between friends and awkward, it's like one of those things that your significant other COULD do with another person, but you'd be a little weirded out and you wouldn't know why. I only bring it up because I just clipped my fingernails after having them be far too long for far too long. I tell you it's like a completely new world; the reds are redder the greens are greener, my keyboard feels like a whole new keyboard. My fingertips have been exposed to the world once again, and it's almost sexual. It's what I would imagine circumcision would be like if your foreskin grew back.

Easter is a bittersweet time for me, not because my dog died on Easter or anything (that actually happened two days before Christmas) but because after waiting for an entire year I finally get to have my favorite candy in the world, the Cadbury Creme Egg. Last year I bought 40 eggs because I would have felt like a jerk if I bought out the whole store, this year I bought 35 eggs, because that was all they had in 2 stores. Sugar coma, here I come...

At least now you know what happens when I don't publish a post.

It was a cruel person who put the word processor and the internet on the same machine. Two amazing inventions in their own right, but only separately. When they come together you get distraction upon distraction upon Distraction (the last distraction is capitalized because it's the most distracting one). When I sit down to write I have to close the door so I don't hear the television or all the fun my roommates are having, the only problem is this solitude grants me a certain freedom that isn't good for my creative constitution. So there I am torn every day, do I indulge my creative gray matter as well as my pride and put something productive in this world? Or do I simply indulge and put something sacred in the wastebasket? One day I'll figure out how to do both, but until then I suppose my almost developed sense of responsibility will keep me posting.

Once again, Videogames=Life

So as I was playing a game of Starcraft with an old friend of mine, I came upon a startling discovery: I have the same problem with Starcraft that I do with life, I can't micro manage. When my attention is focused on something it is all on that one thing, I don't have the brain power to think about anything else while I am performing the task at hand. When I am cleaning the kitchen I can't think about the party we have to go to tonight, I can only think about how dirty the kitchen is. Likewise when I am attacking with my small group of marines I can't think about making more troops or expanding my base, because I want my attack to go well, just like I want my kitchen to be clean.

Hmm...

How do you do it?

It starts small: an image on TV, a knowing look from Sarah, even just a thought can get me going. But once it's there there's not much I can do to stop it, I need release and I need it as soon as I can get it. Sometimes it feels wrong to up and leave in the middle of a social situation, but if I don't the consequences could be worse. I keep the door closed for two reasons, so there are no distractions from the task at hand and because I don't like it when people can see me, I don't mind if they know what I'm doing after the fact or even if they are aware while it's happening, but it's such a personal thing that I would feel weird if someone else was in the room. Turning the computer on I leave the lights off, in fact they're a distraction, I prefer the only light to be that of the monitor as I click on my favorite bookmark and search for pictures, I don't need the pictures but they help. Sometimes I even use videos but not very often, I prefer the simplicity of a single frame. When it's all done I fall back into my chair, thankful of what I've done. Sometimes it's amazing and I can hardly believe I did it by myself, but sometimes when I drink too much it's barely even worth the effort I put in. But good or bad I do it every day whether I have an urge or not, because writing is important in life, and if we don't write down our thoughts and feelings what are we but a bunch of monkeys with cell phones?

Palliative? What does that even mean?

So as I've said before (sometimes even in Haiku) alcohol seems to hinder my creative writing ability, which is funny because there is a true stereotype out there about writers being alcoholics. All great writers seem to have a problem with the sauce, Hemingway, Joyce, Peña etc. etc. but I don't have a problem with it, I just like to get a bit tipsy once a week on Friday or so. My palliative also seems to accentuate my CADD (oh god that's twice I've referenced myself now, I am officially a hack) my drunk self does not enjoy focusing on a single idea and following through, oh no. Drunk Kelly enjoys coming up with idea after idea and writing them down to let sober/hungover Kelly deal with the aftermath. But then the problem becomes that drunk Kelly thinks that all his Ideas are good, when in fact they are not, I'm sure there are a few good ones that come through every now and again but for the most part, drunk ideas are not shall we say, as proficient as I would prefer (even though they are prodigious in pure numbers).