Blogger in Training

Starting a blog, to me, has always felt a little bit like shouting into the wind. Maybe it's good for the soul. Maybe it's a way to shed the fear and anxiety we carry around with us. But maybe the beauty of it is no one ever will hear the bullshit coming out of your mouth, or as in this case coming from my fingertips. Trying to find creative opportunities in the film industry with no connections, no track record, and no portfolio is a little bit like trying to play whack a mole with no mallet, no bar stool, and being 3 1/2 feet tall.

Again this practice feels quite useless, for the sake of getting a writing job, but let's pursue it, if not just for my own sanity.

Okay, so here are the rules, me. Write in here every day, for at least one hour, no matter what. "What the fuck am I going to write about?" says 'glass half empty' me, says, 'scared out of his mind of looking like an idiot, but wanting so badly to express themself/thyself/myself' me.

Well if you're worried about that, how the fuck are you ever going to write? Is this why you've been so busy, so tired, so distracted, so high, these last few years? Why you've been masterbating so much, you're genitalia has gone permanently raw? I mean I think that's psoriasis but who could be sure, when you're in such a state of panic at every point in your life that making a dermatologist appointment, and keeping it, feels like a commitment parallel to the Manhattan Project. I obsess over writing, as a concept. I have stories and one-liners, and passages of dialogue I write out in my head, in the shower, but who can find the time to put pen to paper or finger to key when you are literally scared out of your fucking mind to fail.

Convinced, I'm just not high enough, haven't found the right dosage of my neighbor's ADD medication, haven't made enough espressos out of that gem of a find I found from that one rich lady, who was moving and bequeathed to me, what is now my entire apartment set for $650. Let's just clean the apartment, one more time so I can 'concentrate.' I cling to these reasons, or excuses (I can't decipher the two) with the same force that I cling to my fake identity as a writer.

Convinced I have to at least try this writing thing out or I'll go fucking crazy, here I am. A goddamn blogger.