These past three weeks, I’ve been having a pretty difficult time getting back, or coming to terms with the side of my brain that connects itself with my writing style and voice, mostly because it kind of went away for the past three weeks, and that was pretty terrifying once I found out. I was at a music camp, and just recently came back three days ago. And I found out this dangerous, disheartening, interesting thing about me. I can’t write in unfamiliarity. I just can’t.
I lived with a roomate, and from the beginning of my life it’s always caused me paranoia having one other person in the same room with me watching me write. It’s almost like disrupting all of my thoughts. Kind of life brain stuttering. I can’t keep it under control.
So for a few weeks there, I wasn’t able to write something that felt like I was writing it. I barely wrote a real sentence. I stopped thinking of ideas and basically stopped thinking, because at a new music camp, miles, states away from home, you’re not thinking to much, but feeling, if you know what I mean. I was also worried about meeting new people, working with amazing musicians, getting along with my roomate. Luckily, it all worked out in the end, and I was able to get used to the place. I started to write more freely by the third week, once I got comfortable, but there was something inside me that still felt guarded, and I still felt like my brain was being choked from being itself.
And then I knew what I was missing. I was missing the roots of my life. My entire existence and my source of thoughts and myself. And that was my family. Yeah. I realized that I needed them to write. To write real stuff. I needed my home.
That’s why I can NEVER, EVER write in public. The public is always a new unknown. I need a place I’m familiar with, people I’m familiar with to write, and even while I was away, I was completely unfamiliar with myself, because I was too shy to be myself in the first two weeks. I liked being alone. Plus there was a great view of the mountains and the rest of the little downtown city from my room.
The thing is, I’m just trying to slowly stumble my way through writing again. Thinking up ideas and understanding my opinions and all that stuff. These following blog entries are going to be more bad than usual, but it’s going to help me find my writing again. It’s going to inspire me again. It’s going to make me feel myself again. I really need that now, because I’m more lost than usual these days, but being back home feels easily natural, so I think I’ll be okay.
That’s it for today.
Random thought of the day: Pears rhyme with bears.