:: Letters From the Pedestal ::

:: Wednesday, August 17, 2005 ::

I suppose my inability to post here with any regularity indicates that I should reevaluate my reasons for having a blog in the first place. I really do like the idea, and given how bad my tequila-addled brain has become at remembering details, and even whole narrative lines, it's certainly nice to have a record of my comings and goings, even if it's totally mundane. On the other hand, I have no desire to write. None. I don't know where it went. I never had (too many) illusions about myself as a Writer, but I did used to have the urge to put my pen to paper, and it's just gone. Even when I'm upset and in the position that used to make me scrawl page after page of incoherent rantings, I just feel tired and want not to be upset so that I can go to sleep.

The lawyers I've talked to indicate that this is a common side effect of the law, but the sheer number of lawyer-authors in the world seems to contradit this. If, however, my only choice is to write legal thrillers, I guess it doesn't matter, since I'd really rather not.

Or maybe my life has just gotten so routine that I have nothing to say. When I read my old entries, I remember how it felt to be arrested in the street or at my desk by some really intense sensation, and I'm pretty sure that doesn't happen much anymore. I had boatloads of idle time back then, and I suspect that was the difference. Maybe a lot of experience is merely having the time to be open to it, to stop and say, this is important, I should slow down and pay attention.

I don't know, but I do know I want to keep writing. For documentary purposes, if for nothing else. I should probably just kill the blog instead of letting it languish like this, but I don't really want to do that. Still, it's hard to drop in every few weeks and say something useful. The format only seems to work with frequent posts that create a cohesive arc when taken together.

I'll have to think about it more. Or maybe just get off my bum and start writing, even if I don't feel like it. A friend has adopted this policy, and I respect it, however I'm just not sure I can sustain it. We'll see.

:: Julie 12:33 PM [+] ::
...

Ok, fine, I admit it, I replaced my hard drive, and everything is fine. It's just that it's been over a week since I've even booted up my home computer, because I am never here. It's not bad around here, but it is extremely busy. And I am so sleepy.

Dinner with e today. He makes me sad. I am listening to depressing songs on repeat, but I also had some Mr. Softee, and I'm fine, really. Just fine. Fine, fine, fine.

I am working with the mentally ill. I won't lie--I don't like the mentally ill. There. I said it. I am a horrible person and an impostor in my attempts doing things in the public interest.

On the other hand, I've been eating orange brioches from Balthazar for breakfast everyday and I'm going to Steve R.'s wedding in Syracuse this weekend where I will be reunited with long-missed high school friends and despite my raging self-loathing it turns out that I haven't actually gained any weight.

I want to write more, but I feel all woolly in my head. Probably the result of too much alcohol, to little sleep, and daily contact with people who've been heavily dosed with psychotropic drugs.

To bed! And hopefully, to sleep!

:: Julie 12:30 AM [+] ::
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