Does anyone else hate being a writer?

I reluctantly call myself one because frankly, I am a reluctant writer. When I joined Everything2 exactly 1.6 years ago it was because I felt compelled to write, which I suppose is the reason for all of us being here. Lately I've been running away. Afraid. Why?

I return to the screen because something is eating me up inside so badly that it scares me. Whenever this happens, writing is the only thing that helps. Diary entries don't help much. It needs to be written into a story, told as objectively as anyone can tell their subjective experiences. Doing so releases the tension, lets some air puff out of my brain like an over inflated balloon regaining its normal size. The words want to fall out but I don't want to look at them. Does this mean that I'm afraid of my own mind? It was in a dark place for several years. Seeing the damage makes me want to weep. I'm not the type to use the word ''weep," but it seems like the right one to use right now. How could someone who used to be so down to earth fall into a pit of anger and self-hatred? So far down that I'm only now remembering how to be happy?

There's a woman in my life I cannot escape. At work. She is a caricature of herself. Appearing so polite and sweet on the outside, but wears a different face around those she considers friends. The real face is mean. Saying things to me that suggest people don't like me even though they actually do, asking intensely personal questions even though we aren't close, telling me that I'm not enough this or I should do more of that. Telling me that I act strangely or that I am flawed but that she doesn't mind it. Never have I felt so fixated upon by another person. It feels like violation. It feels like digging up a grave and ripping up the bones for inspection.

My bones.

I fear to write about it. Since climbing out of that pit of darkness I am fearful of people with unstable minds. It feels like they are reaching out, wishing for me to think how they think even though they are totally fucked up and there is no fucking way that I am going down that road again. It's probably a good sign that I am wondering what is wrong with this person. She can't trick me into thinking that I'm not good enough.

The story will be written one way or the other, sooner or later. It is an unborn baby that wants to come out too soon. For now I am focusing on my yoga classes, on finding my spirituality, on bringing joy back into my life with my plants and funny cartoons and friends that I should never take for granted.

It is dark outside, 10:32pm on a Friday night. The cat blinks her amber eyes, sitting on top of the entranceway carpet she has partway rolled up with her paws. Three plastic pots sit on the kitchen window ledge; two have passion fruit seedlings, the other has freshly planted cat grass seeds. On the table beside the computer is a pipe and a small, black glossy cardboard square full of screens. Buffy the Vampire Slayer is on pause, the television behind me, and there is an aftertaste of soup crackers in my mouth. The blinds are closed and the refrigerator hums loudly, the heater making random ticking noises. It's the most beautiful silence that I have heard all week. It is in these moments that the words begin to fall out and I'm not sure if I hate this after all.

I wanted to write a few notes on why I set out to write on all the contests in the 2012 Republican Presidential Nomination. Well, originally, that isn't what I set out to do: I set out to make writeups on the first few contests, which I thought were momentous enough to be covered. And then the race stretched out and became more interesting, and I didn't see any specific reason to stop. I have to admit that there are a few contests that I don't really have much content for: there is not much I can say about North Dakota, but if I am going to cover some of them, I might as well cover all of them. Someday, this might be important.

More importantly, for me, it goes back to what I wrote in Lowering the Bar: Internet Discourse in the Age of Facebook. The election has caused all sorts of commentary, from the professional pundit class to my liberal friends on Facebook who for a week or so, regularly alerted me to the fact that Rick Santorum was not the type of guy who was going to be joining a vegan transsexual commune any time soon. And there has been many predictions and speculations, much of which has been disproved in two days. But who cares? Its the internet! Comments and posts slide downward at astonishing speed. Even the pundit in Time Magazine who said after New Hampshire that Mitt Romney had sewn the whole thing up has probably moved on to new predictions.

There is a lot being written, almost all of it very transitory. I am noding for the ages here. I have tried to be rather modest with my analysis and predictions, because these aren't random comments on news articles that will be forgotten in 12 hours. People will be reading this, I hope, for a while. In some ways, I am writing this to test myself: will what I write about these events in a week, a month, a year, seem ludicrous? So far, I think I have managed to keep my predictions and analysis at a level of modesty that I wish more of the professional media would adopt.

No, I love writing.

Today I am a collection of cells, not a writer per se.

So, speaking hypothetically, if you were a scientist, say an MD or a PhD, let's say you started dreaming about earthquakes. Now then, let's say you babble about it around town and someone tells you that other people are having earthquake premonitions. And let's say maybe that all the little hairs on your arms stand up. The muscles that do that are the pilaris muscles. And then you dream of an earthquake again two days later within 15 minutes of the first dream.

Hypothetically speaking, how do you warn the left brain people?

'Course, emailing the local newspaper at 2 am to ask if we just had an earthquake is not effective.

If you saw your doctor buying 8 gallons of spring water and a lot of dried food at the grocery store, would you imitate them? Or would you have their head examined?

Greetings!

It's a particularly slow Saturday evening so I've stopped by to say hello!

The new place is running quite smoothly. I'm looking forward to another great Sunday -- it's the end of the week, I get creative in the kitchen, and I get to spend it working with the dude I love very much.

I've got a  lot of great news to pass along to y'all. Perhaps I'll actually node tomorrow.

More later,

Love,

Shaogo

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