I want to write. I want to write so badly I can taste it. Yet when I look at this blank page and my fingers hover over the keys nothing comes out. Nothing. I can write a story in my head the entire time I’m at work and yet as soon as I come home and open up the laptop it refuses to yield. Nothing.
For the last eight years the same two stories have been writing themselves in my head. I’ve mentioned one of them before, that one I had 200+ pages written of and deleted in a night of drunken stupidity. Its still kicking its way around in the back of my head…waiting on a backburner. The other story, the one that is now at the front of my head, is the one that was on the backburner during that one. Yet…nothing.
The characters are unfolding. The story is writing itself. The images are placing themselves clearly in my mind. Dialogue is molding into realistic tones. Yet…nothing.
Short stories. The happy place of my existence that always seemed to pour forth from me are gone, like a dried up river bed. Short stories were the things I never ran out of. Even when I was in a writers block, if I could get past my dull state of mind, I could always ink out a short story. It might not have been my best work, it might have been a piece of shit, but it was still flowing. I think that is driving me nuts more than anything. I don’t even have my short stories to fall back on. Even further back…my poetry.
I’m trying to get inspiration. I’m reading more. I’m watching so many movies I can’t even keep track of what I’ve seen and what I haven’t (I started making lists, as evident by my Monday face book posts). Yet…nothing. I’ve turned to my favorite movies that help me write…Wonder Boys…Dead Poets Society…I’m still refusing to watch Dark City (don’t ask). I know I’ve said it once and I’ll say it again. Women have always been my muse.
Women. Yet I have what appears to be such an apathetic attitude towards women that its starting to freak me out. Sure, my online flirting is still progressing at the same pace that it has been. In fact, I’ve even found one that is currently appealing to me more than any others. Yet, once again, its someone who lives far enough away from me that my attention is, in the long scheme of things, utterly useless. However, when I look at the women that I see around me I can’t seem to actually strum up any desire to engage in a conversation with one. Then again I would actually have to go somewhere where I can meet women, which my current situation is devoid of the possibility of allowing me to even do such a thing. Which brings me to my next subject of conversation.
I was placed on non-reporting probation today. I finally finished counseling last week (despite the fact that I’m still going. I’ll explain that later) and today was my last meeting with my probation officer. Of course, I’m still under the rules of probation, I.e. I’m not supposed to drink or do any drugs. Which brings me to my next point. What am I supposed to do?
My whole life for the last eight years has revolved around bars. I hang out with friends…at bars. I take dates…to bars. I spend my days off…at bars. What the fuck am I supposed to do now that I’m not drinking? Of course my options are even more limited due to the fact that I still can’t drive. So, if I want to go out, my only option is to go out with a friend. Who is…guess what? Going to a bar. I thought about this the other day and I can’t think of a single friend that lives around me that doesn’t drink. Not a one. At least not one that I actually know/hang out with enough to consider going/hanging out with. Can I go to a bar? Yes. Do I want to go to a bar and sit there and watch them get drunk? No. At first this wasn’t a problem for me. Lately however, its getting worse. Of course it doesn’t help that my friends have verbally declared how “lame” I am now that I’m not drinking. How much “fun” I used to be. How I’m now “boring” and “dull.” The sad thing is…I agree. I am fucking boring. What do I do? I sit at home, I go to work, I sit at home. This is my daily fucking routine. Days off? Can’t drive anywhere…so I sit at home. You know what has been going through my head the last few days? A big ass fucking beer mug with ice clinging to the side, filled to the brim with Budweiser. I have had such a visual of this that I have practically smelled it in my nose. Tasted it in my mouth. I’ve been practically drooling. I’ll tell you when this started.
Saturday I was chilling before work, fucking around on the internet (my new favorite past time), and my dad walks in and hands me a letter from KSU. I take the letter, place it on the bed, and continue fucking around on the internet.
“Aren’t you going to open it?” My dad asks.
I look at him.
“Open it. I want to know what it says.”
I reluctantly grab the letter and open it. It takes me less than a second to scan the letter, to see the word denied in bold letters just like that, and I toss it back on the bed.
He reaches over me and reads it, says, “Sonofabitch!” and throws it back down. Then he looks at me.
“Are you ok?”
Beer. I’m fine.
“Are you sure?”
Beer. I’m fine.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
Beer. I’m fine dad…really.
“You’re not thinking about doing anything stupid are you?”
Beer. No dad.
“I’ve really sorry.”
Beer I give him a fake smile to reassure him that I’m going to be alright.
Every since then I have had that fucking image of a beer in my head. A big mug…one of those that holds 28-32 ounces. Ice cold. Delicious. My main reason for not drinking, my purpose, has been because I was getting back in school. I didn’t want to fuck it up like I did last time. The last time I was in school I was more interested in what bar I was going to when I got out of class then actually paying attention.
I’m trying though. After ashes yelled at me tonight I sent an e-mail to both Reinhardt University and Georgia State University. Asking them what their policy on senior transfers is, and how many of my credits will actually count in the transfer. In a slight glimmer of desire I also noted that both universities offer BA’s in Creative Writing. That was what I initially wanted to get my degree in but KSU didn’t offer it. For shits and giggles I also looked at Emory (which I was actually accepted to straight out of high school) and Texas A&M. I didn’t send them anything (mainly because Emory costs almost $20,000 a semester) but I looked.
The thing is I likely won’t be able to get into either university until next Spring. Which leaves me with what, 5 months of more boredom? At least I should (unless the DMV decides to fuck me) get my license back on August 20th. I have no doubt that I will put several thousand miles on my car in the first week I get it back. I will also be able to start doing things. I really want to start hiking again. I have thought about getting a gym membership at a 24hr gym so I can go when I get off work (although this is doubtful…I hate working out). I’ve thought about going places on my days off…maybe little trips out of state. Which brings me back to counseling.
I’m done with counseling. I don’t have to go back. Right now I’m taking a friend because he started going with me and needs a ride…and he’s not done yet. But I’m also going not because I need it…the only thing I’m really getting out of it is being able to talk to other sober people…but because it gives me something to do. It is an excuse/reason for me to get out of the house. FUCK do I want to be out of the house.
Anyways…if you made it this far congrats, I’ll buy you a beer…oh…wait.
By the way, I’m thinking of getting a credit card. Why you ask? So I can finish getting my fucking tattoos. I don’t have any idea how long its going to take for me to actually save up the money. If I get a credit card with, at the very least a $1,200 limit, I can get the tattoos that I want done. Then I can cut the card, pay it off, and cancel it. I mean, for reals, I’ve needed to get my half sleeve finished for over a year now.