I am uninspired. I lack inspiration in all things.
noun in·spi·ra·tion \ˌin(t)-spə-ˈrā-shən, -(ˌ)spi-\
: something that makes someone want to do something or that gives someone an idea about what to do or create : a force or influence that inspires someone
: a person, place, experience, etc., that makes someone want to do or create something
: a good idea
My last post was May 1st. Ideas have come and gone and come and gone over and over in my head, but have not held fast in my conscious mind. I’d like to be able to say my life has been pretty hectic, I’ve been busy, I’ve been working, I’ve been taking care of things. I had places to go and people to meet. I can’t.
I thought about writing about the riots in Baltimore where I live. I thought about writing a piece on tolerance or then again about judgements. I thought of writing a poem to read at church the end of June. I’ve read the weekly emails from yeahwrite.com. I’ve read the blogs I followed. I’ve surfed the internet, lurked on Facebook. I’ve been reading up on hypothyroidism and tweaking my diet. I thought about writing about that.
Here I am lost in my thoughts again. This tends to happen to me often. I was labelled as a day-dreamer when I was a child. It was an accurate description. I would go off to places in my mind, or rather they would come to me. I could be walking to the library or riding the bus home from school or trying to get to sleep and I would see these vivid settings and then they would become inhabited by characters. And so I began to write. I have been writing for as long as I can remember, around nine years old I’d peg it at. Nothing much has come of it. It was just something I did to quiet my mind. I wasn’t very good. It’s not like I could make a career out of it. So I meandered through life trying on different vocations. None of them fit very well and all had to be returned.
So here I am now. At home: a house to clean, errands to run, mail to be sorted out, meals to cook, a child to feed, pick up from school, help with homework and the internet to occupy my downtime. I haven’t gone back to work, because I haven’t figured out what I want to do. I am in transition. That is a lie. I want to write. I’d like to be a writer. I don’t want to be a novelist, I know there isn’t a book in me. Something else perhaps? I don’t know.
And there I go – sticking my head in the sand. Yet again. I let doubt and insecurity overtake me. I retreat. I want to be brave, but I am a coward. Yes, I discovered I am. I lack commitment. I lack drive. I lack inspiration. In an attempt to jumpstart my lackluster self, I’ve signed up for the blogging class on WordPress starting this Monday. Hopefully that will inspire me.
I am uninspired. Yet, I fear I may have nonchalantly rolled back into depression.