Here there be monsters (socratic) wrote,
Here there be monsters

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I am impervious to the machinations of evil men who love John Fogerty (John Fogerty isn't evil.)

rpeate angered me today when he commented in my journal that I should stop worrying about my work and 'enjoy my life.' I almost snapped at him, but I realized that the problem was my communication with him, not that he was being a GIANT ASS! So I'm going to explain myself instead of lashing out. This is very mature of me. I get sharp when it gets cold and I get mean when I get sharp. Instead of being mean, I am going to be explanatory. Yay personal growth.

I am happiest when I am working. There is no greater pleasure than that of creation, at least for me. Building something, be it film, piece of writing, or even something within a video game, from city to criminal empire to character, fills me with pleasure and 'good vibrations.' My desire to write and create films is not born out of some feeling of obligation, but rather anticipation of the joy and pleasure it will bring me, as well as the fact that I have these VIVID works of art inside my head that I desperately want to share. I want to get them out there, into the world, for others to enjoy and discuss. To have my ideas exposed to the scrutiny of people other than myself and to give the opportunity of personal growth.

My problem is mostly in starting. Once I have begun something worthwhile I can work on it pretty well and I love the work. I get a high from it, one that I imagine is similar to those that drugs give other people. It's certainly more pleasant than taking alcohol. I just have blockages that keep me from getting the ball rolling, even on things I enjoy. This is true of everything from writing to video games to exercise (I went for a walk this morning and it was great, I got a lot of thinking done I got my muscles working my endorphins flowing etc... Why don't I do that more often? I DON'T KNOW.) I'm not sure what the origin of these blockages is, although I and my therapist have theories. We think it might be related to my father, a desire to remain infantalized so as not to lose touch with him. My self-criticism, since I know I'll dislike whatever I end up producing (It's the process not the product that gives me joy) I have a natural pull away from actually starting things. It could even be introversion, It's much easier for me to deal with my internal world so externalizing work or whatever is a serious effort. Anyway, the blockages are extremely painful, they feel much like mental constipation, and this is why I berate myself. I really want to get things flowing and I'm pissed that I can't just shove these blocks of mental shit out of my brain and let the good stuff clogged up inside there flow.

It makes me cranky.

This is one of the reasons I am trying to cut down on LJ. It diverts a lot of the good attention and the times where I CAN write to something that is ultimately far below the level I am capable of because it is so centered on myself. Describing my day is a chore and is pedestrian and pointless. It isn't what I want to do. Further complicating matters is the fact that LJ's message boards often make things devolve into pointless and uninteresting arguments that suck up more time. Arguing on a message board is just spectacularly inefficient due to the nature of the communication. Debates that take 4 minutes in real life take 20 online, and I'm not talking about waiting around for responses I'm talking about actually typing things out. The lengthy nature of the exchanges rather than normal human exchanges featuring interruptions and nonverbal communications is just time consuming and silly. I don't want to argue with people who believe in magic or people who don't understand arguments unless they are painfully laid out in long sweeping passages. I'm getting gun shy about commenting in other people's journals because you get sucked in to these just stupid conversations. Fortunately a surprisingly small number of stupid and pointless people read my journal. I like to think it's because my style keeps them away, but it's probably more my ornery angry nature that scares them off.

Good riddance.

Anyway, Robert, making art is PART of enjoying life. You ought to know that, being a photographer and playwrite yourself. In fact I'm rather insulted that you'd think it wouldn't be part of the good life for me, which is why if I were not being conciliatory I would call you out as a HUGE ASS! I would say rpeate is a HUGE ASS everybody. HE'S AN ASS!

But I won't. I'm far too mature for that.
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