What it feels like to write

"Sit down and write", is what I hear in my mind so often. By "hear", of course, I mean my invisible passenger, my conscience, telling me I need to flesh out some type of discourse about something important. I have this notion that strikes me. I suppose it feels like what I'd interpret to be "a calling" to write, but I so very often don't embark upon writing because I don't immediately think I have anything to write about. Music, filmmaking, film reviews, and perspective articles comprise the whole that is my out-of-college writing, and if my notion doesn't coincide with one of those categories, I often go to bed desirous and disappointed I didn't write anything down. I seek validation of purpose in writing. It can be my biggest issue.

I suppose you can say that, in some ways, I am undisciplined. I haven't yet sat myself down and thought about just writing for the hell of it; a goal must be met if I'm going to take the time out to write it. What I'm saying is, I am not complacent in writing about, well, nothing, or just a feeling or a moment of randomness. I must have some kind of purpose for my writing. I think, I proficiently write about films and their complex intricacies, components, and people, and that's my favorite kind of writing. Writing about music is a new foray, and it's kind of intimidating. I'm writing my own perspective of an album's merits and messages, as well as recalling the history that I know of, and that is an easy enough hurdle to climb.

I can bust out a short film script in a few minutes, usually some kind of situational horror piece, and pat myself on the back for knocking out a fine enough narrative to warrant putting the scenario to visual representation.

Where I really start to feel my skin crawl is in perspective articles. Articles where my main goal is to express my opinion about a topic is the type of writing I am most uncomfortable. I believe it's because I feel unique in a world of normalness, and I'm self-aware enough to know we all probably walk around thinking we're completely unlike each other. Duh, that's because we are all unique, even twins, triplets, etc. I so often see the middle of topics, politics, for instance, and cannot justify choosing a side.

I suppose that makes me seem noncommittal to some. I get that. I just prefer to keep myself open to a better life perspective, if one is to be had. Writing has always been a strong suit of mine. In my first semester of college, I wrote a perspective essay on attending a professional wrestling pay-per-view event live, and to this day I can recall the smell of popcorn and the crunch under my feet from overzealous fans flinging it about the auditorium. I love descriptive devices, the color of something in a story, or the pattern on a rug in a narrative. I'm detail-oriented and my house is in a constant state of messy disarray.

I'm a walking contradiction in the sense that my writing is neat, and my home is a disaster area. Now, I will say, I'm not food-messy, I'm not gross. You'll not find gooey mold in my home or even a crumb of food. But, you'll find my clothes scattered about and comic books stacked precariously on my entertainment center. I've always been both embarrassed and fascinated with the detail-oriented work I do in film and writing, and my lackadaisical approach to housekeeping. For all intents and purposes, I keep a messy mind, too. But, when I write, I can see the overall arc of the story or recollection, the weight of a joke or moment of self-reflection, and how I want to present my little artifacts of information and visual descriptors.

With a microscopic vision, I understand how I want my writing to impact people, yet I can't find a shelf for my comics because maybe I'll want to read the third one from the bottom tomorrow, and since it's already there, I can't lose it, and it'll also serve to remind me to read it if it just hangs out near the front door, on top of the entertainment center. A messy house and visually detail-specific writing, people, they are my curse and my blessing.