Tag Archives: saying no

Mojo Rising: In Which I Want To Be A Blogger

307153_272353769461853_100000616957975_876750_1805170655_n (1)Hey, reader.

So I’ve not been blogging on purpose. Didn’t have it in me. For two years. Yeah, I know. You can fake it if you wanna, but I don’t phone it in.

What you don’t know is, the more annoyed or passionate I’ve been of late, say the last six months, the more I’ve been writing, and never doing anything with, new posts.

So it occurs to me that I’m, you know, one read/edit and a click away from having a shiny new blog post. Yeah! Something to ACTUALLY read, for you, the reader-person.

Doesn’t that just blow your fucking mind? A click away, man. A click!

•click•

But that’s the thing that’s been missing — the desire to write for public consumption. Or even write at all.

Lately, though, I’ve actually stopped what I was doing just to write something. Write a thing that doesn’t even pay me money! Lemme tell you, friendly reader: That blows my fucking mind.

You got your writers who’ll tell ya that writer’s block doesn’t exist. I’d agree with that. I can write six ways to Sunday all day long, but it doesn’t mean it’s got anything worth saying. And sometimes the saying of it is just a thing that keeps you hemmed into an already-troubled mindset. Ain’t nobody got time for that.

You wanna yammer on because there’s “no such thing” as writer’s block, or wallow in your you-ness, you knock yourself out. I know when I’m writing crap I wouldn’t even line a birdcage with. Let’s call 2012 and 2013 my “Bird Sanctuary Years,” okay? The Epic Saga of When the Crap-Writing Canary-Cage-Liner Sings.

But I got out and dialed up my creativity for photography and cooking, things a brain can pause for. Pause, a nice thing to use. Lovely. Pause. We should all pause a little but more, but petting zoos should have unicorn rides and shoulds don’t mean shit. Creativity is creativity and a writer doesn’t always need to write, I discovered. But now’s a different thing entirely.

So here’s the deal. I’m back. Not in a blogging-daily type incarnation, but then who knows? Maybe. I used to do the EB White write-500-words-a-day and it mostly wound up on here when it went well. Far be it for me to eliminate anything.

But wait! There’s more!

There’s something in this for me too. I’m writing ebooks. Not just one. I have a very crafty scheme in mind for taking this whole entire blog and giving you a radical reinvention of it in ebook form. This one will remain as it is, but I’ll have my fun. I need to get you all riled up about it. All in due time, reader. The grand tease thing. I’m shameless, friend. I’ll admit it. But I’ll make it worth your while too. Found my mojo, after all.

Thus it’s time for me to resume blogging for public consumption. I had my break. It was groovy. I have several things kicking around I can fire up and finish off. Longform stuff too.

I have mounting anger about the stupid-ass bullshit in the world and a raging hard-on to tell you why. I want to write. I’m twitchy. I’m ranty. I’m occasionally funny. I’m freeing up time in my life to take back writing and to own my voice.

Giving myself permission to just not write was what made me eventually write for the hell of it. It’s like rediscovering your golf-swing. You can’t just order it on Amazon. It’ll find ya when it finds ya.

So… I said Hey, reader.

In case you missed them, I have blogged lately… three times this year in larger posts I wrote and stuck on Medium. There was this about Philip Seymour Hoffman that got widely read and was an Editor’s Choice, and then there All The Fucks I Give, my thoughts on people who self-censor and the act thereof, which also was an Editor’s Choice, and finally this on how Twitter Doesn’t Suck, you make it suck.)

Not a Surf Bum, Just Bummed

I won’t be windsurfing.

Instead, I’ll be walking around in the post-acupuncture blissed-out haze I’ll be fortunate to have. Someone cancelled, and this back of mine that has been wonky since last Wednesday will be getting much-needed treatment. Lucky.

I’m bummed. I wanted to windsurf, but I won’t take the chance when I’m getting these warning twinges.

What’s happening? The same stuff that began a month before my back injury in 2008.

Basically, I’d lost 50 pounds that year via mostly cycling. With the wrong cycling posture, and with zero ab-work, the pressure on my lumbar built the entire summer.  It began with excessive tightness and tension twinges. Then the shit came down and crippled me for about six weeks, affecting me for nearly a year.

To say I’m alarmed to feel ANYTHING similar is a bit of an understatement, since it was only in about Sepember 2009 that my back began to feel normal again.

Right now, everything revolves around my back. The unfortunate reality is, I don’t have extended medical, so any money that gets spent is gone for good, and I’m really not in the position to afford more than “basic maintenance” right now.

Luckily, I bought two  (6)-packs of acupuncture in the hopes I’d get the money refunded from my last medical claimed. That failed and I’m out the money, but you can’t go wrong investing in health, and I still have the treatments for use.

So, it could be worse.

This morning I called and no appointments could be had. I pleaded desperately for first place on the waiting list.

Desperation, for the win! Got The Call at 1:12.

4:20 is when my road to wellness goes VrRRoom.

If I’m lucky, I’ll get cupped too. (Neat Eastern treatment that leaves one with huge welt marks but is amazing for muscle issues. OMG. I hope! My only real experience with it had me with better shoulder/neck-muscle loosening than a $90 massage would give me.)

Yep. Acupuncture. So, no windsurfing for me.

This summer is ending with a whimper, not a bang. It’s pretty anticlimatic that way, but…

It’s still a time of monumental change. Last Thursday, I submitted my application for a program I’m so wanting to get into. I got the call for a personal interview within a day. Tomorrow I go in.

Big things going down in Steffville.

We’ll see.

The back? Stupidity. Mine. I’m angry. I’m resolved. Sort of hit a mental bottom about it, because I remember how bad things got with the back and I can’t believe I’ve let myself slip to this point. I’ve been in a heady place about it yesterday and today.

The back problem’s mostly from overdoing it last week — I’d have been fine with overdoing it had I been maintaining my rehab work, like I’m supposed to, for the rest of my life. But totally have NOT been doing that. Last week? Two insane days of lifting boxes, climbing stairs, bending, etc, followed by 110km of cycling over the next few days, well… oops.

Note to Self: 40 isn’t that far away. Don’t be a dumbfuck.

Despite my freak-out at times this weekend, I’m cautiously confident this will pass pretty soon. The acupuncture appointment? Made me so damned happy. Nicely timed, my friends.

So, I kinda have missed out on the last great weekend of summer, and have had to cancel the thing I was looking forward to all summer as a personal check-point of sorts, but… it could be so much worse.

It’s a reminder, these lines we have to toe in order to keep ourselves safe, of just how important our bodies are. And balance, Grasshopper, seems the most important thing to attain for one’s body.

Stretching, a variety of exercise, posture, mindfulness — one without the others, for me, tends to be as harmful or more than not doing any at all. It’s like trying to live on only one kind of food. I could, but there’s no telling where it’ll lead.

A reminder, indeed.

A little fear of god and a very real threat of slipping back to a life of chronic pain is all one needs for motivation, if one has any brains at all.

Fortunately, I’m smart like dumptruck. Smarter, even.

So, then: Pincushion time. Yo, fix my Chi.