Wanting to write, nothing to write about

I was reading an old blog of mine. One that was, and still is, top secret to anyone who knows me. And one of the best posts that I read was written one day when I felt like writing but had nothing to write about.

What an interesting phenomenon probably more than one writer (yours truly) has, of feeling the need to write but not knowing exactly what to write about.

Truthfully, my mind is full of lots and lots of stuff. But most of it I’m not willing to write here. Yep, too personal.

But when I was asked just now how I’m doing (by sms – I’m here alone), I responded that really how bad could I be considering that I got to watch my neighbors’ underwear slowly sway in the wind as the humidity regained equilibrium with it. I also got to watch a kid play with a balloon by a beautiful rose bush. The stupid thing (meaning the balloon, not the kid) got popped almost immediately and the kid, as is customary, immediately broke into a half-fake sob.

But anyway, most importantly, I’m trying to work on a relatively (for myself) big writing project and have feelings of insecurity almost constantly. But why? Why must it be this way? Why can’t we just go merrily on our way, as we attemp to do whatever we feel like doing, and let time tell if we suck or succeed. Or both. Or neither. Why must I decidedly waste kilowatts upon kilowatts of energy (from now on I think I’ll talk about how many watts I burnt instead of calories, in case I ever talked about how many calories I burnt anyway, and, btw, calories are also kilocalories, but go see how many “laymen” actually know this fact) instead of just doing stuff?

Sigh… Maybe I really shouldn’t try to do something extraordinary with my life. Maybe I should just make as much money as I can and, I dunno… I dunno!

I just need my life to be meaningful. Yeah yeah, you never know what might be way more meaningful than you think. Woopee. Not good enough for little miss, “I’ve gotta feel useful and like I’m making a difference in the world” over here. I know! It’s totally selfish to have to feel meaning in your life, right?

Ha! It’s amazing how certain things, though they can be viewed as selfish on a certain level, lead to so much more productivity that in the end, it’s the best for the world.

The ferver with which people act when they feel meaning in what they’re doing, is proof enough of that.

OK, well, this secretive “bigger” writing project of mine is very important. OK, so I don’t know if I’ll actually get anywhere with it, but if I do, I could really help people with it. So, shouldn’t that give meaning enough to push me to work on it with the great ferver mentioned in last paragraph?

Sigh… It seems that sometimes, or quite often actually, the questioning of oneself overrides the feelings of meaning.

How sad.

And with that, I shall end this post.

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