Saturday, March 12, 2011

Where my mind is at

I haven't been blogging. I have barely written much of anything lately. The odd poem here and there. A way to rid myself of some mental diarrhea. Writer's block would be a misnomer. I haven't been staring at the blinking cursor at a loss. Nope, I am not blocked, I simply haven't been trying.

Yes, circumstance has played its part. I haven't been blessed with many free hours. I have been busy not only trying to be the best partner and parent a neurotic writer-type can be, but I also I have been trying to find work. Which, frankly, sucks the soul right out of me. It's not that I don't want to work. No that's not it at all. I am looking forward to 8-10 hours out of the house, 5 or so times a week. Oh and a paycheck, wow, what a novel idea. I am not adverse to work, I am adverse to feeling like I am under a microscope. HR people, gawd love them, give me the creeps. But where was I? Oh yes, circumstance, environment and distraction, have all played a huge role in my lack of writing.

But there is more. Of course there is more. It is never as simple as 2 or 3 things weighing me down. I am also at a lose when it comes to subject. There is the novel, there is always the novel, and its subject remains the same... but I am not in the right head space to be novel-ing, not right now. What I mean is, I am not sure which subject, which global or interpersonal event will spur me on. There is no lack of chaos or misery right now. There is no shortage of heroes, villains, or victims either. Yet none of it has coaxed my fingers to make sweet love to a keyboard. Very unsexy.

I could, if I was more dedicated, write a passionate pro-union piece. How hard would it be to string together a 1000 words or so of disgust in regards to the Koch Brother's faux-grassroots Tea Party movement and its nefarious plot to destroy the American middle class? But it is always better to leave that sort thing to the pros. Jon Stewart, Bill Maher and Michael Moore have a larger target audience. They're much better suited for that fight. The sponsors have spoken. Moving on.

What else is there...? Oh yes, the specter of a Canadian election. Know what? I'll get to that when the writ is dropped. I'd hate to look like the Conservative Party of Canada, you know, very eager to campaign, and more than willing to blame the other guys for forcing an election. My voice will be heard. But I am classy enough to wait until I know a date. Hear hear.

Then there is hockey. As some of you might know, I am a hockey nut. A bigger Montreal Canadiens fan you will not find. If you follow hockey, or sports at all, you will also be aware that there was a horrific check thrown in Tuesday night's Bruins/Canadiens game that left the Canadiens' Max Pacioretty crumbled, lifeless on the ice. It was a scary moment. One that left Canadiens' fans like myself, sick and angry. We felt that Bruin's captain Zdeno Chara (all 6'7'' 250 pounds of him) deliberately smashed Pacioretty's head into the glass stanchion. Try as I might to view this event objectively, unblinded by rage and loyalty, I can't. I am, so I've been told, an irrational fan, unable to see past the outcome (a fractured vertebrae and a severe concussion) . All of which is probably true. Carrying on.

What's next? NATURAL DISASTERS! Ye gads, and I mean no offense to those in the effected regions, but who the hell can keep up with them? Just when the world had purged themselves of worry and thoughts of New Zealand and its traumatic earthquake, Japan gets hit. Do I feel horrible? Of course. Do I feel incapable of helping? Yep that too. The worse that things get, the less I pay attention. If I were to internalize all the shit, all the death, the carnage, the wasted lives, the evil and the greed that fills the 24 hour news cycle, my insides would rot. It can't be all that bad, I won't allow it to be all that bad. I have kids to raise. My tiny world sphere matters more, to me, than does the misery that is the wider world. Sorry,  channel switched.

The same goes with the Middle East. I hope nothing more than for peace and prosperity, for each and every citizen standing up for freedom (whatever the hell freedom is). I'd love for the revolutions that are popping up all over, to  lead to governments that put people ahead of ideology, religion or greed. But I am sorry the cynic in me knows better. I hate to be a buzz kill, but I just don't see how students (mostly) armed with iPhones and Twitter apps are going to reverse thousands of years of history. I have been burnt by false optimism before. I changed my avatar green for Iran and all it did was make me look sickly. Reality bites. Unfollow me if you must. 

So there. This is where my mind is at. I am here, I am there, I am everywhere. I could promise to blog more, but I hate making empty promises. So until things are settled on the job front and until I can settle into a routine, posts will remain sporadic. As healthy as it is for me to empty my mind of bottled up thoughts, I am not sure when I will next be afforded the opportunity. Thanks for reading, if you've made it this far. Much love. And until next time, I am out!


  1. Miss that distinctive voice of yours. Please post again soon? the crazy universe needs you, pal.

  2. You're not alone Joseph - Sometimes the whole damn thing is too much to take in and process - and thats ok.
    Focus on what matters and what is manageable at the moment... take care of that stuff. Don't worry about the world - it will still be a mess & need lots of commentary and figuring out when life gives you a moment to deal with it...
    We'll be here too... trying to do the same. =]

  3. If you're too busy, or don't feel like writing, then it's simple... don't write.

    But, when you have some time, or get the urge, you HAVE to write. If it comes in waves & you write in spurts, good enough. Especially when it comes to blogging. I blog when I can, when I feel like it. If other people don't like it, well... that's not my problem.

    It's when the waves & spurts cease all together that it's time to worry.

  4. Thanks kids. It is a biological imperative that I write. Writing is my way of processing mental muck. I can't force it, nor can I be forced to do it. The words come at their will.