Beauty awakens the soul to act.
Dante Alighieri

Gah! I just can’t figure out what I should do with myself. Today is another exercise in frustration. I feel so full of all kinds of ridiculous emotions. I want to channel them into a story. I believe that story is a lot about figuring out how to connect to other humans by expressing what they cannot quite figure out how to say. The problem is that sometimes I don’t really know how to say it either.

Well, eff.

I have a job interview tomorrow. It is an interview at a fitness club for a part-time job. Again, like the bookstore, the income is practically negligible given the costs I will incur by traveling to the job. But, I’ll earn a little bit from it and hopefully that little bit will make enough of a difference. Another potential benefit might be more inspiration to be healthy, as provided by working with people who are passionate about health.

I have another interview next week, though. Wouldn’t it just figure that when I finally start getting interviews, the one I want the least seems to be the quickest to resolve? I guess I’m obligated to take it, either way. I know I’ve said this before, but being a twenty-something jobseeker right now SUCKS BALLS. Okay, well, maybe I haven’t said it that way before. That doesn’t make it any less true.

Here’s a snippet of the mental cacophony that I deal with:

I have a loud internal voice that says, “You’re creative, you’ve got valuable talents and skills. Just be patient, somebody is bound to notice them eventually. Right? Yeah, keep on going!” There’s another voice in my head (often resembling one parent or the other) that says, “Work is not meant to be fun. Just do it because that’s the responsible thing to do. Besides, you’re basically white trash that doesn’t have much of a chance anyway at educated people’s work.”  Oh yeah, that’s nice. There’s another voice that often chimes in on bad days with helpful quips like, “You are so not ever going to get a job. Go back to bed.” Sometimes I listen. Although, lately, I’ve been going to yoga, which is actually quite helpful in silencing the bad day voice. I have even awakened a zen spirit voice. It says reasonable things like, “Unemployment is a temporary state of being that has no bearing on the quality of your soul. This time will pass. Work will occur in your life whether someone is paying you or not. Choose how to spend your time wisely now and in the future.”

Usually I gape for a moment at those morsels. I like them the best.

So, the moral of this post is that if you’re unemployed, you should do yoga and give yourself a break. Learn to appreciate the beauty in the songs of birds and the subtle accomplishment that is preparing a delicious and simple meal. Find peace when you can. Accept that it won’t be all the time, but believe that if you practice, you can find peace more and more often.

Pick your Artist: Red Hot Chili Peppers

Are you a male or female:
C’mon Girl

Describe yourself:
Storm in a teacup

How do you feel:
Hard to Concentrate

Describe where you currently live:
Green Heaven

If you could go anywhere, where would you go:
Parallel Universe

Your favorite form of transportation:
Warped

Your best friend is:
Right on Time

You and your best friends are:
One big mob

What’s the weather like:
Johnny, Kick a Hole in the Sky

Favorite time of day:
Midnight

If your life was a TV show, what would it be called:
Death of a Martian

What is life to you:
Tell me baby

Your relationship:
Transcending

Your fear:
Under the bridge

What is the best advice you have to give:
This is the Place

Thought for the Day:
Give it away

How I would like to die:
Warlocks

My soul’s present condition:
Breaking the Girl

My motto:
Fight like a brave

This is Crossing the Frame. One of my absolute favorites. I hope you enjoy it too.

“Sometimes the author’s first perception of a character is as erroneous as the readers’. Running a close second [as a writing lesson] was the realization that stopping a piece of work just because it’s hard, either emotionally or imaginatively, is a bad idea. Sometimes you have to go on when you don’t feel like it, and sometimes you’re doing good work when it feels like all you’re managing is to shovel shit from a sitting position.”

I feel like I’m shoveling shit. I can’t get a routine going. I hate this. All of my free time is during the day, while my husband is at work. When he’s home, I want to spend time with him. However, any time I’ve ever been able to get into writing consistently and not feel like I’m shoveling shit, I have found myself settling in with my lappy around 10 pm. The sounds of the rest of the world finally stop pressing in on my mind and I can just write. And usually I end up liking what I’ve written (you know, in that moment….later, I might come back and find it to be total crap). But with this whole business of being unemployed I just feel wracked with guilt all the time. Fuck. It’s been an entire year. I should have finished several first drafts by now.

I love to think about how everything hinges on perspective. Last week, I tried to convince myself that I would feel better if I considered myself to be a successful housewife who writes and also sometimes contemplates returning to work in education. I did for a couple of days. Today the weight of reality came crashing back down on me. It just happens some days. It makes me think of Einstein’s saying that, “Reality is an illusion, albeit a persistent one.” Anyway, I cried for a while, napped for a few hours and then reawakened, giving myself a second shot at today. Again, I didn’t go to pilates. I just sort of moped around. I started looking at job postings and potential volunteer gigs. But I just kept thinking about how I should just go to Ava’s (my fav coffee shop) and write. Why didn’t I go? Well, the guilt thing again, obviously. I can’t go to the coffee shop every day as an unemployed, useless pile of crap.

This is the problem with my life/brain. I want to write. I love to write. And I do it when I can. But being saddled with this ridiculous depression and guilt about not earning an income fucking paralyzes me. I feel like what I should be doing is working somewhere, anywhere. Then I think, No fucking way! I can’t handle retail or customer service any more.

So round and round I go. Shoveling shit when I can, feeling guilt-ridden the rest of the time. But, on the plus side, the sun came out today and the seeds I planted have sprouted. I guess I can at least hang on to that accomplishment.

I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,
or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,
in secret, between the shadow and the soul.

I love you as the plant that never blooms
but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;
thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,
risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.
I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;
so I love you because I know no other way

than this: where I do not exist, nor you,
so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,
so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.

~Hugh Prather

A friend posted something really moving on facebook this morning. I don’t really know how to put into words what I’m thinking, but I can make a series of haikus….

Hidden truth feels safe
But it is not genuine
Courage in the dark

Self, friends, unicorns
Do they see your honesty
Shining in the dark

Find a way to see
Your nature’s truth is a gift
Take it from the dark

—

So, this got me thinking about writing stuff. What is honest about my characters? What do they hide? Why? What do they share with others? How is it received?

Anyway, peace.

I took my inability to return to sleep as a sign that I needed to get up and start working on the story idea that I was mulling over last night.

I worked for a bit, got slightly bored, worked a little more, then hit a wall. Now I’m hungry and tired and feeling a little stuck. I suppose I could go in search of breakfast now. Meh. Maybe I will. Or maybe I will just try to go back to sleep.

No. I’m not going to do that. It’s too light outside.

I think I’ll try sequestering myself until I get something written. Even if it is frustrating. Also, will be employing Leechblock lockdown for a majority of the day.

“If you hear a voice within you say “you cannot paint,” then by all means paint, and that voice will be silenced.” –Vincent Van Gogh

I get frustrated with my writing projects at least once a day. For a long time, I’ve sort of thought, “Well, maybe that’s a sign that you are really not meant to be a writer.” The only problem with that is that I can’t stop thinking about my writing projects. They’re almost like little pets that follow me around, constantly demanding attention. Even if I get frustrated and feel like I don’t know what to do with them, they’re still there, staring up at me with those big, pathetically adorable (and irresistible) eyes.

This sort of seems like a cruelty of fate, doesn’t it? I was stewing in this yesterday, after I’d talked myself in yet another giant circle regarding a story idea. I got frustrated and turned to the friend who’s always there, the internet. Luckily, I stumbled upon this JSB video. He said that he gets frustrated too! Just hearing someone else talk about how he also gets frustrated with writing was really encouraging. It helped me to feel less solitary in my struggles.

JSB said something else that struck me. He said that sometimes you hit walls, but if you keep on working, you’ll get stronger as a writer. I want to be a stronger writer.

In honor of this vexing process of writing, I’m going to call March my Month of Frustration. I’m going to do my best to make sure that I get frustrated at least once a day and, more importantly, that I write through it. Who’s with me?