Posts Tagged ‘random musings’

Good intentions really are just that – and a commitment to a writing practice has the same trajectory as “I’m actually going to stick to a budget this month.” Days spill into each other, become weeks, and you somehow arrive at the point where it’s easier to just start over with a new, different commitment this time.

So fine. I’m just going to keep writing, even if it’s bad, even if it’s pointless. I’ll consider it a daily vacuum sweep of the mind, which it probably needs, after I spent an hour looking at movie trailers on youtube last night. (I prefer trailers to actual movies, since you really do get most of the plot and premise in about 5 minutes, instead of committing an entire hour and a half to some media moguls idea of what women find funny. Hint: they’re usually not.)

This time, my trailer mash up blurred a whole bunch of emotional music- pretty people running through fields – kisses in the rain scenes, leaving me with the impression that I had in fact already watched an entire movies-worth of screen time.

ImageI notice that the hardest thing can be just deciding what to write about. It’s evident every time I sit down and open up this blog – although I’m writing more or less into a vacuum of ether-interwebs-space, and I can rant about any damn thing I please – I still hesitate to actually pick a topic.

It’s not that I can’t think of something to say as I have too much to say. Fuck, I could blog about my breakfast (people have made a whole art project out of it) I could go on and on about Berlin, the creative process, the random things I contemplate and which seem so funny to me, as told by myself. I talk to myself a lot; there’s no shortage of conversation material.

But writing it down is hard. Writing is hard, is the basic conclusion I have come to. Or as someone else once put it: “Writing is easy. You just stare at the paper until blood comes out.”

This morning I was reading a magazine and drinking coffee. I thought about how tactile magazines were, and how much I preferred them to internet news. How screens put an automatic speed filter on your brain (“I must absorb this as quickly as possible before moving onto the next thing”) which physical objects made out of paper don’t seem to.

I read a story about a drone strike, and had a little niglet of an idea – the kind of ‘what if’ that often kickstarts fiction. I jotted something down. Then I read the end of the article, and discovered that someone had already written some fiction to that effect. Boo. Enthusiasm summarily deflated, even though the idea could be bent many ways and fiction is as unique as your storytelling voice.

The point is there are lots of ideas. And there are lots of ways to lose your enthusiasm (thinking about an audience is one, judging your idea before it’s hatched is another). A creative practice involves, I am convinced, spending time every day throwing spaghetti at the wall. It might stick. You might just make a mess and waste some time.

Here’s some spaghetti.

It can’t quite decide if it’s raining or misting or just a bit foggy out today. What the Irish call “soft”, and what I call a good excuse to stay inside. You’d feel like an ass carrying an umbrella, but you’re still going to get wet on a bike.

That being said, there is something very lovely about sitting out on the balcony, under the awning, wrapped up in a blanket with a steaming cup of green tea. Soft Saturday mornings. I’ll take them.

1. It’s Sunday.

2. This means all places of business are closed in Germany, save elusive ‘special’ Kaisers which will open, seemingly at will and at random, for four hours on a Sunday afternoon.

3. This is not that Sunday afternoon.

4. Normally not a big deal, except I am out of pasta. Actually, I’m out of just about everything – the fridge has a half stick of cucumber and some ginger root – but I do have the cupboard staples needed to make a cheap, basic, super garlicky marinara sauce.

5. Except for the pasta, meant to be a vehicle for the garlic.

6. That stinks. (Both the kitchen and the lack of pasta, which is like the only cupboard staple you should never run out of, ever, and how did I forget this lesson from my college years??)

7. Guess I’m going to a späti. In sweatpants. Ignoring looks from kids out buying beer on their way to the bar, which is what the späti is for.

8. Happy Mother’s Day. 

9. That seems ironic, in a way I can’t quite put my finger on.