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    poetry


    dots Submission Name: union meetingdots
    --------------------------------------------------------





    Author: rws
    ASL Info:    57/m/ohio
    Elite Ratio:    8 - 2777/1297/258
    Words: 318
    Class/Type: Random Thoughts/Serious
    Total Views: 1066
    Average Vote:    No vote yet.
    Bytes: 2043



    Description:
       some days...


    Make the font bigger!! Double Spacing Back to recent posts.

    dotsunion meetingdots
    -------------------------------------------


    I’ve spent 15 years writing and rewriting the beginning of this story; enamored with the bits and pieces one moment and frustrated with the stunted growth of each idea. I’m 29 words into this aimless snippet, and I’m already frustrated and bored. My exuberance was wasted early on critiquing and sharing thoughts with a dozen unpublished writers on an anonymous web site and trading rhymes with street poets. World is done. World is done, done, done…

    This is it then? It’s over? Words are useless? Writers deal in scribbles and pauses and runs like an NBA team on fire. They also rake their souls over coals of self-condemnation when those same words aren’t forthcoming or don’t make sense or have no depth.

    That’s a bit melodramatic, don’t you think? Writers writing about writers writing about writing?

    You brought it up. Uninspired writing comes from uninspired writers. That’s it. If anything, dude, you should do something else. Try painting, sculpting, landscaping, cooking, anything. Find something to enjoy and pass on the lit thing.

    I teach lit. And writing. And ethics. And logic. And philosophy and religious studies. And personal finance. And I’ve got degrees in commercial art as well.

    So? Is this all you’ve got in the pot to stir? Find your own way. Be your own best critic. It sounds as if you’re too critical of yourself.

    Please. The only thing you’ve told me is to enjoy the stalemate.

    No. Enjoy life before your goals suck the life out of you. Say goodbye to everything, and I mean everything, that does this. Walk away and love life again. Or at least tolerate it.

    Yeah.

    Yeah. We need a rest.

    Hmmm… Some muse you are.




    Submitted on 2014-06-17 09:49:57     Terms of Service / Copyright Rules
    Submissions: [ Previous ] [ Next ]

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    ||| Comments |||
      So hey. You do something in life, and then it becomes what you do for a living. It changes. Doing something you love in fits and spurts through the passionate lulls and flares is one thing, yet having to maintain a steady flame is entirely another. I know people who refuse to do the one thing they love most for a living. Then it becomes a job; tedious, and with all its vain, mundane monotonies.

    This almost reads to me like a piece of advice, to yourself and to others. One of the ironies of life seems to be that you find what you are looking for when you are not looking for it. Passion drives passion, and comes in a circle back to itself. So, as long as it is not essential, forget about writing a while. Go for a walk and observe the many things you enjoy. Immerse yourself in your favourite song. Eat food that lights up your senses. Maybe try out another type of art.

    I also couldn't help but read something into it about this website, since I read your front page before coming here. I was on this site a long time ago under a different alias. A lot has changed, and not necessarily for the better. Sometimes it is tiring, sometimes sad. Things are always changing and this is something you have to both embrace and mourn as the pages turn.

    Cheers!
    | Posted on 2016-01-21 00:00:00 | by BlankSheet | [ Reply to This ]
      I regret to say, I failed to read beyond your first, whatever.

    Post poetry only your babble is a towering inferno, you wish!
    | Posted on 2015-11-09 00:00:00 | by poetotoe | [ Reply to This ]
      What can I say here that has not been said. My own response is that I really enjoyed reading this as if it were a comfortable moment on the couch with a blanket and a love one. I believe the intimacy of thought is what brings me here. The honesty and vulnerability inspire affection in me. Thank you for sharing.
    | Posted on 2015-06-30 00:00:00 | by lori_tab | [ Reply to This ]
      I listened to a friend scold themself the other night about not being able to focus on their dream. She has this constant need to think she has to twit and tweet and twiddle about what she is having for dinner or how magnificent the soy pizza she cooked tastes. Yet she has "no time" to balance her checkbook or watch any youtube video that is more than 30 seconds long.

    Now...what do you do with a person like that, eh?

    | Posted on 2015-02-27 00:00:00 | by hyproglo | [ Reply to This ]
      I have really got to come back and read more of your Random Thoughts. Writing: is it enjoyment or a compulsion? Sometimes I think it's both. Commenting and reading others work has definitely been an enjoyment to me, but sometimes I need the challenge to jar the muse into working. Mine in very competitive, which is strange because it's not a word I associate with myself. But there it is; give me a challenge and the words just pour out.
    Enjoyment of life, ya, it is what I do when I'm not writing. I took a hiatus for almost a years. I did not realize how long it had been until I came back to it, to spew sorrow, that was definitely from compulsion to express thoughts.
    I think I will challenge myself to some cheerful writes now. I needed this as a reminder that there should be joy also, streaming down my page.
    ~jan
    | Posted on 2015-02-11 00:00:00 | by jaycee | [ Reply to This ]
      I got a very genuine chuckle out of this. A trite muse! Sounds as though you should let this one go and post a help wanted ad in the paper.

    | Posted on 2014-12-19 00:00:00 | by Ontlogicalamity | [ Reply to This ]
      Hey ya, Bill! I found this so... I dunno... Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance-esque. Fascinating little foray into your inner dialogue. (And maybe, as your muse here says, it is just a tad melodramatic.)

    Here is something that caught me from the other direction:

    " Find something to enjoy and pass on the lit thing."

    As in ... pass the thing that is lit on.

    I know that's not what you meant, but that's the way I took it on initial read, and it's certainly a more hopeful take than your intended meaning.

    So cheer up and get back on the horse... there are lit things in that need passing onward.

    annie
    | Posted on 2014-06-23 00:00:00 | by annie0888 | [ Reply to This ]
      
    What is it?
    It is it!
    Yes, but what is it?
    ...and again it is it!

    (some answers are just more questions)

    we ponder, we break it down
    wonder, wander on all grounds
    verbs rubadub with nouns
    actions not always so sound

    But yet, here are these beats
    loudly spelled, freedom, solace
    peace of mine in the spaces but
    we never seem to find the end...

    Is there one?

    Just what your thoughts left me thinking.
    yep
    | Posted on 2014-06-19 00:00:00 | by clay | [ Reply to This ]
      At first, when I read this I thought it was some kind of a multiple personality-ness of a schizophrenic soliloquy. Now that I've read it several times I'm still considering this conclusion. The jaded nature of your muse is amusing.

    "No. Enjoy life before your goals suck the life out of you. Say goodbye to everything, and I mean everything, that does this. Walk away and love life again. Or at least tolerate it."

    Is the coup de grace. An oxymoronic gib that states that you must relinquish your goal orientation before it sucks the life out of you when goal orientation is the life in you. Throw it all away and get into the emotional fidelities of hedonism and apathy. And then to top it off the muse has the self serving audacity to say "yeah, we need a rest"

    Seriously Bill your witticisms are eloquence. Your humor is inspiring. At my union hall your a real hit. I say keep writing, you've got a superior talent for it!

    Bruce
    | Posted on 2014-06-18 00:00:00 | by monad | [ Reply to This ]
      i still found this amusing. frustrating gig. i guess you're the resident professional around here. writers writing about writers writing about writing. yeah that happens don't it. the writing metaphor is a little odd in my opinion. i've used it, just to describe states of mind. but still it's kinda funny on paper.

    enjoy the stalemate.

    i guess it's better than checkmate from the opposing team though. better to get stuck in the game than to lose completely. but then again being wrapped up in one game can be losing others. at that point.

    Walk away and love life again.

    seems like the muse just picked the turning point to end on. or rest on. time to digest?
    | Posted on 2014-06-18 00:00:00 | by cornonthekob | [ Reply to This ]
      I like what Isabella says about how there was a time when words were always there. It is true. Before we "knew better" and became so critical of our own writing, it was a place to go, a source of solace, a way to heal. Somewhere along the line, for some of us at least, we took this gift and we made it a job. And that is when the magic began to slip away. Writer's block isn't just about not being able to write. It is about not giving yourself permission to just scribble without trying to make the Mona Lisa. When you start scribbling again though, I find, that's when the magic comes back.
    | Posted on 2014-06-17 00:00:00 | by JanePlane | [ Reply to This ]
      (smile).

    sigh... and why do any of us write anything at all? i wonder sometimes, if it would be easier not to be a creative person. i think too, it is hard dealing with the dry days, weeks, months, years... shit, even seconds. add self doubt into the equation and all hell breaks loose. it's like losing a best friend. or your favorite earring. or having to put down your dog. (freaking heart tugs). then it's like you are in mourning.

    there was a time when words were always there. like a teddy bear, a security blanket, a thumb to suck on (with index finger tucked over nose). (and just a note... i never had any of these things growing up. miss independent and all)....

    but that muse. she is a beast, i say. a beast. evil. heartbreakingingly awful to the core. damnned biatch!!!

    but i agree...

    i have come to terms with my lack of whatevers...
    i no longer want to be heartbroken to write a sad song. or in a bad way to get out anything at all.

    maybe it is true... getting out there into the midst of things and absorbing the poetry of living it. really living it. maybe that is the cure to what ails.

    idk... just some thoughts.
    | Posted on 2014-06-17 00:00:00 | by isabella | [ Reply to This ]


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