Genius strikes... in my car???

So. It’s been a while since I’ve posted. A looooong while. I’m just gonna jump right in.

I had an epiphany on my way to work today. I swear, I have my most brilliant moments while I’m driving… weird, I know.

I’ve been reading a lot of books lately, and when I say a lot, I mean A LOT. I’ve finished 10 books in less than a month. That’s more than some people read in an entire year. Shit. I’m constantly moving, going, pushing forward, wanting more, not getting enough, looking for something. Answers. Anything. And I’m not finding it. But, on my way in to work today, I’ve at least figured out a reason why my brain is constantly never focused on one thing at a time.

I don’t like it when things end.

Most people don’t like change, that’s not me. I like change, I like different things, new things. I’m all good until it comes to an end, and then my brain goes ape-shit. It doesn’t know what to do with itself. It sees the end coming, and then tries to procrastinate as long as it can so that whatever I’m doing doesn’t have to end. And it’s driving me fucking crazy. Well, at least it did until I figured out why I was doing what I was doing. I honestly don’t know why I haven’t noticed it before. It’s why I jump from book to book, because I crave the unending adventure, the fun, the characters and their quirks and personalities and how they interact. Go, go, go. That’s what I do, what I’ve done for years and it’s taken me this long to figure it out. I am relieved.

I’m slowing it down, and by ‘it’ I mean reading, not my brain, there’s simply no controlling that. But if I focus on one story, one book at a time (did I mention I often read two, or three books at once? Not literally, of course, but throughout the day I’ll read pages from multiple books) in order to allow myself to focus and calm the fuck down. My brain has been on hyper overdrive lately and it’s too much. *takes deep breath* I feel better already.

So, now to get the reason behind the post: my writing. Ugh, I’ve been suffering lately, well lately being since I finished college which was three years ago. Three years has passed and I’ve been unable to finish one book. Shit, forget one book, one short story. One outline! I’ve got nothing to show for all the writing I’ve done in the past three years. Having worked on five ideas in the past year, I’ve got hundreds of pages of writing, notes, rewrites, and nothing that’s even close to being complete.

Enter: EPIPHANY!

I don’t like things to end. At all. It makes me sad. And mad. And frustrated because why couldn’t it keep going? It was Journey’s “Don’t Stop Believing” that says the movie never ends, it goes on, and on, and on, and on.….. well, that’s the way I see it. I imagine that the movie keeps on going, the characters have a life after the credits roll. Because I don’t want it to end. *sigh* yes, that’s me, the helpless romantic that knows they will continue to love each other even after the movie’s over, even though the divorce rate hovers around 50%. Now that I’ve figured it out, however, I believe my incredible writer’s block/insane inability to focus and produce something has finally (after many, many years) come to an end.

The relief I’m feeling is tantamount to sitting between siblings on a car trip and having to pee for hours but your parents won’t stop because they want to make time, and when you finally do get to fling yourself out of the car, bladder nearly bursting, and shove your way into the dirty bathroom stall at a rest stop and blessedly get to relieve yourself in a rush akin to the flow of Niagra Falls, that, my friends, is what I’m feeling right now.

*sigh*