I've received two separate comments today (from real-live people) about my writing. Specifically, m blog. One person said that my writing was amazing. The other said that lately, I've been churning out crap.

I've been thinking about that.

I have a variety of excuses prepared, of course. One is that my computer is bogged down by viruses and worms and spriggans and the like. It takes me literally twenty minutes to get to the blogger page. And when I do get there, all sorts of fun things happen. For instance, the text will suddenly turn into all caps. Or, I'll be completely unable to highlight anything. Very fun stuff.

The other excuse I have is that my priorities have shifted somewhat. It's become very important to me that I catch that extra hour or so of sleep. Having my wits about me while at work and now, at school, has been very rewarding.

I'm more reluctant to speak now. Sky and I talked for a bit before he left. He said something that has been floating around me like a wisp of smoke. He told me that I'm forgetting how to listen.

He told me to remember how, years ago, I used to hardly open my mouth. I would listen, observe, absorb what was going on around me and what people had to say. He pointed out (and I agreed) that I had lost that.

I don't know at what point I decided that I had to shut my eyes and close my ears just so that I could open my mouth.

So I thought about that for a while. I still am. I'm trying to re-assess the kind of person I am.

And I will admit, it is much easier when I keep my mouth shut.

So what should I start with? This blog, for one.

I haven't been coming here as often. And when I do, it isn't for very long. I haven't been oblivious to that. Now the question is: Why?

That requires some looking back. The single most productive period for my writing (blog and otherwise) was during the month I was unemployed. Almost every day would bring a new post. Oh, never really about anything, but I was always producing something.

So what's different now?

Well, I'm working full time. That brought a few spurts of writings about interesting mail I'd come across or how much I disliked being there or how much I'd escape into my imagination.

My screen saver at work is still the same scrolling marquee. Silver letters meander across a black screen and ask "Who's dreaming you?"

I think this is all about expression. For a time, this blog was all I had. This was my only means of creative expression. At least, I thought it was.

It certainly isn't now.

I'm working a lot. I'm taking my summer class. I'm getting an idea of just how much harder I'm going to have to work when I start taking a full-time class schedule at the end of August.

There will be no room for error if I expect to get to where I want to be.

But I can still find ways to have a good time on the way. For instance, I am taking English 102 right now. I've withdrawn from the class three times. On three separate occasions with three separate professors I have dropped English 102. I told myself it was because I couldn't stand the environment they expected me to write in.

Really, I just didn't like to do anything I didn't want to do.

My professor gave as a homework assignment for the weekend. I am to write a two-page paper about various learning resources on campus.

Basically, I'm writing a thousand words on the library.

"This is preposterous!" I thought. "This is mindless drivel, this is pointless busy work, this is...this is....

exactly where I've earned the right to be."

But I'm going to show that professor. My goal is to write the entire paper without even once using the word "library".

I've come up with "literary sanctuary", "intellectual haven", "writer's Valhalla" and "printed-word Mecca".

I'm hoping it goes over well. The last paper I wrote was another dull writing exercise. My professor commented "Not quite what I asked for, but it's amusing so I'll accept it."

Heh heh, the system works.

We talked about it later. "Sorry," I said, "I got a little bored."

"That's what I figured," he smirked.

I was laughing today about something that Jay said. We were riding in Donaldo's car and listening to a CD when he suddenly yells at the stereo: "You don't know anything about life! You just sit in your room and write music all day!"

I felt inclined to agree. Some time ago, Jay had also told me that I spend too much time in my own head.

Jay isn't entirely correct, but I do agree that there is much more out there than there is in here.

Here's something from the journal:

"I've only ever withdrawn from two classes because I was failing so badly that I would have never been able to pass. One was a math class. The other was...well, there was no other class, it was really just the math but I didn't want to say math was the only one because that would place far too much emphasis on the subject, because really I'm quite bad at a number of other things that I haven't actually managed to fail in..."

I am also aware that I write more profusely when I am frustrated.

Not that I haven't been frustrated lately.

Wanting to move, to travel to a new place with your friends and then realizing that you have no marketable skills?

Frustrating.

Getting ideas to write about that get you really excited but then when you finally get around to them you find them floating belly-up in a moldy tank, much like the fish you promised your neighbors you'd take care of?

Frustrating.

Finding the woman of your dreams and then turning into a blithering idiot around her? Deeply, sickeningly, profoundly frustrating.

But this is life and things like that do happen.

Take for instance, me going to sleep. That happens all the time. Especially right now.

Goodnight.

(Oh, and if you do run into any spriggans (which are ghost-like things that will cause parts of decaying buildings to collapse on you when you enter) just remember that a spriggan will never collapse anything onto itself. Just stand right next to it and you will be perfectly safe. I hope that helps.)