As I am sitting on a street bench, working on my show, a police vehicle patrolling the neighbourhood keeps driving past me. The first time they even stopped and observed me as I pretended not to notice them. I guess I had that suspicious look, sitting there, consulting Wikipedia on my smartphone, writing in my notepad…
Tag Archives: writing
Staying The Course.
Today’s Daily Prompt is Perseverance. How do I some up the entirety of this blog in one post? This journey has so far been all about facing the most challenging period of my life.
It started with a broken heart. I have faced my fears. I have laid myself bare. I have done my best to overcome.
I have faced it and I am still here, still fighting.
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All The Difference.
It is helpful to be able to express my feelings and share them immediately. This community has been very supportive and inspiring. More so than many realise.
The way I personally chose to go about blogging is to do it as anonymously as possible. It gives me freedom to be as honest and open as possible without fear of judgement spilling into my offline world.
This right here, is – for me – the difference between putting down in writing my inner struggles and being too dead to do so.
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Treat.
Today’s Daily Prompt asks us: “If bloggers had their own Halloween and could go from blog to blog collecting “treats,” what would your blog hand out?” So this shall sum up my blog quite nicely: it would hand out misery (seriously, read my blog – I got a lot of it. You can have some of it any time you want and not just on Halloween. Seriously, come back for some for Christmas and pick up extra for your friends and family.) and condoms. There’s 7+ BILLION people in the world! Do we really need to make more? By 2050 the ice caps are going to melt down and we will be at 8 billion fuckers. We got climate change that makes it really difficult to support the population we got already and we keep making more children? How about adopting some that are already here now? But I digress. And since we are fantasising, might as well make it big. I would not just give out the actual rubber condoms, I would also hand out the emotional ones that protect against the most insidious virus of all: love. That way you can be sure to remain safe until both you and your partner decide to stop using them and get infected together. But keep the other ones on! Keep using the (rubber) caps on your party bits so that the Poles (see what I did there) can keep their (ice) caps.
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Day 43. Universe Is Fucking With Me.
The tendinitis in my right wrist is still going strong. Typing is torture. Plus I’m starting to get busy again. I am still at the very beginning of my journey and there is still a long way to go; so I am really not where I need to be but at least I’m not where I was yesterday.
It would also seem that some people out there actually like me. There are my improv mates; we had a great practice tonight for our long-form narrative show in two weeks. It will be an improvised play done in a specific genre. The practice, as I said said, went well. I managed to remember what I told myself before: go in with an emotional choice and not a cognitive one. I think it is helping and letting me relax and play the game.
And I am also in demand for my photography skills apparently. I will be covering the local improv festival and I will be starting to cover a bunch of shows here in town for an entertainment blog. Things are starting to get back to the way they were but I am no longer the way I was. Or at least trying not to be the person I have been. There is good reason to be optimistic about the future but my mind is stuck firmly in the past. On Her. So as I am trying to forge a better life for myself and become a better man because even though she will never see the results but she is the one that makes me want to be a better man. So as I strive to get ahead, it is imperative that I forget Her and learn to live without thinking of Her.
But I still love Her.
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Day 35. Running On Empty.
First things first, let me get this out of the way: tomorrow morning I am supposed to pitch over the phone (not my strongest suit) a long-form narrative improv show for some sort of a Jewish festival. The organisers want an improv show that is interactive and based on classic Jewish stories. So some time between now and tomorrow morning I have got to figure out what the heck is a classic Jewish story.
Now, let’s move on to what has been on my mind today. A talented young standup comedian friend of mine wrote on Facebook asking what does one do if one has nothing to talk or write about. My suggestion was to write about stuff he does not want to talk about. As cathartic as writing this blog has been for me, I have not felt the ability to share my less appealing side. One can suppose that this is largely because I have two psychologists telling me to concentrate on the positive and not dwell on the negative. However, I believe I should discuss all of me here. Over the next few days this will be at the top of my thoughts.
I am supposed to be leaving to spend this weekend in the mountains. It is highly unlikely that I will be able to update my blog, thus breaking my pledge of publishing one post per day. Nevertheless, I shall strive to still write the posts even if I will not be able to upload them until getting back to civilisation.
My main hope that I will be able to maintain the following order of cognitive priorities:
1. safety in the mountains;
2. writing about what I do not want to talk about;
3. my beloved (not voluntary).
The reality though is that #3 has the tendency to displace everything else.
Peace out.
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Day 19. Struggle.
Lately, it has been a struggle to keep writing. The novelty of having to write at least one post a day has worn off and the boiling geyser of feelings has subsided. Now it seems that all there is left is dull ache of sorrow.
Sunday night I had been able to get myself to the theatre and do a pretty good improv show. In the fit of irony, the universe has arranged that in the very first scene I did in the workshop before the show, my scene partner’s character broke up with my character. All I could think of is “Shit! Just don’t start crying.” I managed not to do that. There was a small crowd but it was better that way for me, though I imagine, not for the theatre. As smoothly as the show went, I still struggled with trying to keep positive. It is not easy for me at the best of times and I am not going through the best of times at present.
Getting back to writing though, the challenge of doing one post a day or more has been beneficial in establishing a discipline of writing. I need that structure now to help me get through this shit.
It should also be of help in my therapy. I am actually supposed to write two letters: one to my dead grandfather and one from him. The first one is relatively easy. He is on my mind a lot and I think of the time we could have been having together often. The second letter will be hard. I can’t even imagine what to write. It has been almost 19 years since he passed away. I remember his face but not his voice. I rarely think in my native language these days and that puts me even further away from trying to access him deep in my psyche. What would he say? How would he say it? At best, that letter “from him” would just be me saying what I think I know I should do. I wish I could hear his voice. I wish I could listen to his advice. (I will definitely need to do a post inspired by him, about him very soon.) In the meantime, I will have to find a way to keep at it.
In improv we say (I believe Meisner pioneered this) “if you are stuck in the scene, state something that is true. This writing challenge has been doing exactly that for me: a way to say something true about myself in order to keep going. A constant lighthouse of stability and common sense to keep me away from the rocky shores of dark, evil thoughts that would eviscerate me.
I am taking this life one day at a time.
I just have to keep on writing one post at a time.
Forlorn Hope: A Diary Of A Broken Heart 