I’ve been trying to write an “I’m back!” blog for over a week now and it really isn’t going well. Truth is, Italy was kind of a bust and recounting it to you folks is almost as exhausting as living it. Eventually, I hope to slap up some pictures of my trip, but this brief paragraph will have to suffice until then.
Speaking of exhausting, almost everything has been exhausting lately. The humidity is dragging me down, physically and emotionally, and all I can bear to do, it seems, is watch Pushing Daisies reruns, internet shop, and emotionally collapse in on myself like a dying star (a tip of the hat to Jan Levinson). I’ve been almost entirely off caffeine for two weeks now and am attempting to exercise regularly to prevent the stream of anxiety attacks being thrown my way. The sudden speeding up of my heartbeat, accompanied by tears and pillow biting, has subsided, but the constant tug of dissatisfaction has remained, well, constant. The upcoming semester is completely uninspiring, my job is equally lack-luster, and I’m finding myself questioning all of the relationships that I have (or don’t have). Remember that entry that I wrote awhile back? Well, instead of feeling like my world is on the brink of change, I find myself constantly losing hope.
I can’t blame anyone else. Maybe if I were motivated or, and I hesitate to use this word, self-assured, I could propel myself into something better. But I’m not these things. I’m not a problem solver; I’m a problem dweller. Do I try to be a better blogger? No, but I do sit up at night wondering why crap bloggers (all readers excluded) seem to get a kajillion hits a week and receive various accolades while the bulk of my readers consist of people who share a part of my genetic make-up. I get jealous of actresses in movies and on television for having a job that I would love to have, but do I have the balls to audition for anything? No. And why? Because by not blogging more, not auditioning for plays, not learning to play guitar, not singing in public, and not approaching people who I want to be friends with, it all stays under my control. I can tell myself that it’s my choice that I don’t do theater anymore and it’s not because I’m a bad actress and someone won’t cast me or I can say that my lack of readership is do to my choice to not involve myself in blogging communities, not because what I have to say is uninteresting or poorly put together. Is blaming my lack of motivation just another excuse to put off doing anything?
I can self diagnose all I want, but what do I do with the diagnosis?
More About the PQK
- Maddie
- The Pop Quiz Kid is a 22 year-old lady named Maddie Davies. She can be smart, is kind of pretty (particularly in the mid-morning to early afternoon), and aspires to write and perform comedy. She is from Wisconsin and really enjoys a nice buffet spread.
6 comments:
I'll teach you to play guitar and we can become street musicians. Once we make enough money we'll hitchhike to NYC and claw our way towards the top until our names are in every gossip magazine and website around the world!
Man, good post.
Sounds like you need to immerse yourself in something inspiring. Of course, finding that inspiration takes courage, but I think you have it in you.
Let me know what I can do to help, be it sitting in a cafe for an afternoon write-write-writing (blog or non), or listening, or taking a walk, or finding someplace new we've never been, or dressing up in wigs and whorish makeup and making music videos.
i hate to say i feel you but man do i feel you on this one
Great post... and I like your blog and I am not even a little bit related to you. Keep breathing -- it will come.
You're a good writer, and oh, yeah, I know how that feels. Hoo baby.
Thanks for putting it out there.
That was brave.
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